The Halloween scary stories thread!

[orchestragirl]

Here's a place to post your favorite scary stories, either made UP or found online, anything you want! I'll start!

TILL DEATH DO WE PART.....

A newly married couple, Billy and Mable, had bought a house in Maine. They disregarded the stories told to them about the house by the realtor about the house being haunted by an insane serial killer and moved in. Mable frequently complained about the feeling that someone was touching her in the night, and Billy resolved to stay up the whole night and see who, if anybody, was doing it.

True to his word, Billy stayed up the whole night. Around midnight, he was gripped by the feeling of an overwhelming thirst. He went downstairs to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Before he could get a glass, he heard the most horrible screaming from Mable's room. Billy rushed upstairs and screamed himself. Mable's dead body lay bleeding on the bed. Billy rushed downstairs and called the police. Several nights later, Billy was finally sleeping peacefully, until around midnight. Again feeling very thirsty, Billy went downstairs and got a glass of water. He went upstairs and saw a lump in the bed. He ran over and ripped off the covers; The ghost of Mable floated up above him. She had an unholy light in her eyes, and the dark form of another man floated beside her. In her hand, Mable held the biggest knife Billy had ever seen.

"Didn't you promise Billy? Didn't you promise? 'Till death do we part! You promised!" Mable screamed, as she floated towards the frightened and paralyzed Billy.

[orchestragirl]

THE GUESTS....

A young man and his wife were on a trip to visit his mother. Usually they arrived in time for supper. They had gotten a late start, and now it was getting dark. They decided to look for a place to stay overnight and go on in the morning.

Just off the road, they saw a small house in the woods. "Maybe they rent rooms", the wife said. So they stopped to ask. An elderly man and woman came to the door. They didn't rent rooms, they said. But they would be glad to have them stay overnight as their guests. They had plenty of room, and they would enjoy the company. The old woman made coffee, brought out some cake, and the four of them talked for awhile. Then the young couple were taken to their room. They explained that they wanted to pay for this, but the old man said he would not accept any money.

The young couple got up early the next morning before their hosts had awakened. On a table near the front door, they left an envelope with some money in it for the room. Then they went on to the next town. They stopped at a restaurant and had breakfast. When they told the owner where they had stayed, he was shocked. "That can't be", he said. "That house burned to the ground ten years ago, the old man and woman who lived there died in the fire."

The young couple could not believe it. So they went back to the house. Only now there was no house. All they found was a burned-out shell. They stood staring at the ruins trying to understand what had happened.

Then the woman started screaming! In the rubble was a badly burned table, on the table was the envelope they had left there that morning!

[shaniagal]

Wow....these are really scary :nervous:

but thanks!

[orchestragirl]

You're welcome! Feel free to add your own if you want, or just read them! :)

[shaniagal]

Well, the first one is creepy, the other one is similar to another I've heard

[shaniagal]

Okay, lemme go find some

[orchestragirl]

Shadows in the Mirror

There was once a woman who lived by herself in a quaint house in the country. Her husband had passed away about 5 years back and she was planning on moving soon. One day, while packing up some of her husbands things, she noticed that the temperature dropped really low. She walked down the hall to check the thermostat, but when she got there it showed no difference in temperature. She thought about it but figured that it must be broken. She decided that she would call someone the next day to fix it. When she passed the mirror on the wall on her way back she thought she saw a movement of shadows in the reflection. Then the temperature suddenly returned to normal and when she looked back at the mirror nothing was there. She shrugged and went back to packing.

A couple of days later the temperature dropped again. Again the woman went to the thermostat and again it showed no change. She remembered that she had forgotten to call someone to repair it. She promised herself that she would call after her show on T.V. that she had been watching. When she passed the mirror she again saw the movement of shadows. She stopped. In the reflection she saw a shadow, nothing but a shadow. Slightly translucent but visible. The shape was indescribable. It changed shape, like water flowing, about the size of a tall person. It stepped out from the wall behind the woman, but when she turned around to face it there was nothing there. Now she was scared. She began to tremble. Slowly she turned back to the mirror. The figure was still there, and closer. She screamed out "HEEEEELLPPP!!!" but no one came. Closer and closer IT came...

A few weeks later a friend of the woman's stopped by to say Hi. She knocked and knocked but there was no answer. The next day a police officer came out to investigate, but he found nothing but a few empty boxes and the TV on. It was put down as an unsolved case. The house was soon cleaned out and put out on the market for sale.

For many years the house was empty, what with all of the stories going around about it. But one day a small family consisting of a mother, father and daughter moved from the city into the house.

All was well until one day the temperature dropped in the house. The daughter went to her parents and asked them what happened. They said they didn't know and they went to the thermostat to see. It showed no change in temperature. They decided to call someone. The daughter went back to playing with her dolls in her room. Had she looked up into her mirror she would have seen a shadow peeking from behind the reflection of her bed. But just then her parents came in to tell her that someone was coming the next day to fix the thermostat and that she'll have to deal with it for a while, but when they finished saying this the temperature went back to normal. The parents said never mind.

A few weeks later the temperature dropped again. The girl was brushing her hair at the time, in front of her mirror. She saw the shadow behind the reflection as it started to creep towards her. She screamed. Her parents came in asking what happened. She told them but they didn't believe her. She tried to make them believe her but it was of no use. They took her to a psychologist to get her help.

When she came home she believed it was all a figment of her imagination. She probably would have kept believing that except that about a year later the temperature dropped once again. The girl was by herself because her parents had gone to the theatre and left her alone, since she was 13 years old. She was experimenting with make-up at the time, in front of her mothers mirror. She stared in terror as the THING crept out from behind the bed. She trembled but didn't call out, she knew no one would come. And now, as done before, the THING came closer and closer, closer and closer...

When the girls parents came home they had no one to come home to. The Police report said another unsolved case... The house still stands to this day.

[shaniagal]

Please post more! The only ones I know are reaaaally lame and nonscary.

edit: yay! a new one! I'm gonna read it

[orchestragirl]

the little white dog

There was an old woman who had no family still living. Her only friend was a little white dog who went everywhere with her - with one exception. The dog loved the fireplace in winter, and after the old woman went to bed he would sometimes go and lie in front of the warm coals. Usually though, the dog slept at the very edge of the bed on a throw rug.

The woman wouldn't allow the dog on the bed with her, but if she became frightened or had a nightmare, she would put her hand down to the little white dog and he would lick it reassuringly.

One night the woman was reading her newspaper just before going to sleep. She shivered and pulled the comforter up around her as she read that a mental patient had wandered off from a nearby hospital. No one knew if the patient was dangerous of not; he was a suspect in the murders of several women who had lived alone.

The woman turned out the lights and tried to sleep, but she was frightened, and tossed and turned fitfully. Finally, she reached down to where the little white dog slept. Sure enough, a warm, wet tongue began to lick her hand. The woman felt reassured and safe, and left her hand dangling off the bed as she turned and settled in comfortably. She opened her eyes for a moment and looked through the open door into the living room.

There in front of the fireplace, sat her little white dog, gazing at the coals and wagging his tail.

Down beside the bed, something was still licking her hand.

[orchestragirl]

Please post more! The only ones I know are reaaaally lame and nonscary.

edit: yay! a new one! I'm gonna read it

Glad you like them so much shaniagal! :)

[shaniagal]

Ahhh! That new one was really scary!

[shaniagal]

Glad you like them so much shaniagal! :)

YAY! another! Thanks so much for these....

and btw, you can call me Tillie :)

[orchestragirl]

Night Visitor

Richard was living in a not-so nice neighborhood with his parents. Their house was badly in need of repair and none of the windows or doors ever locked properly. Richard complained to his mom about not being able to sleep because of the "scratching" noises in his room, his mom assumed that it was rats, or that some cat had managed to get in the house again and was in the room somewhere. After turning on the lights and not seeing any sort of animal, she told Richard to go back to bed. So Richard went back to bed and was awakened almost immediately again by the scratching. Insistent, ceaseless. He still couldn't tell WHERE the sound was coming from, but this time, he decided to ignore it. So he fell asleep again.

Richard had no idea how long he'd been asleep when he suddenly sat up in bed, crying out, his hands flying to his back. He'd been bitten in the middle of his back while he slept, yet he'd been LYING on his back. Richard decided that things were just too weird and went to get his dad. His dad looked at his back. The spot that hurt certainly didn't look like a bite. It looked more like a puncture wound. So he flipped on the bedroom light and inspected Richard's bed. There was a hole in the fitted sheet and some of the mattress stuffing was showing through the hole. At a loss to explain how it happened, Richard suggested that maybe a spring had come through, so Richard's dad flipped the twin bed over to see if the box springs were the culprit.

What he found was a long knife stuck in the mattress, pointing upwards, towards where a person might lie. He also found mud and dirt under the bed, the exact length of a person. Checking immediately outside the window he found fresh footprints in the mud leading to and then away from the window. Someone had slipped into Richard's room through the unlocked window and lain under his bed. The scratching sound he heard was the person using the knife to dig through the box springs and mattress to kill him!

[orchestragirl]

YAY! another! Thanks so much for these....

and btw, you can call me Tillie :)

Alright Tillie, you're welcome! You can call me Julia if you want. :)

[shaniagal]

Wow...the little white dog one is really intense and has a creepy psycho twist...AHHH!

[shaniagal]

Alright Tillie, you're welcome! You can call me Julia if you want. :)

Thanks Julia! I'm going to read Night Visitor now

edit: the Night Visitor is pretty good...but did Richard die or not? That is the question...:p

[orchestragirl]

Arabella

A little girl, named Lucy, was given a small doll by her parents. The doll was a gift from an ancient great aunt who had now passed away. Lucy was secretly unnerved by the doll which had nasty little black eyes that seemed to follow her around the room and a cross expression on it's face. Nevertheless, Lucy had to accept the doll, as she was well brought up and didn't want to upset her parents by informing them of how uneasy she felt around the doll. Her parents told her the doll was called Arabella. Lucy was even more afraid now that the doll had a name. It seemed to make it more human.

Even so, Lucy never really believed on a conscious level that the doll could do anything to her. It was just a doll, after all, and only reached up to just above her knee. So, to put her mind at rest, she stuffed Arabella into the little cupboard under the stairs, behind a pile of shoes where her parents wouldn't see her. It was not until a few nights later, when Lucy was lying in bed that she heard a noise...a shuffling sound, which went on for about five minutes. Then, a brief dragging noise and finally, a scuttling like light footsteps walking very fast. Lucy was pinned to the bed with fear, unable to move. Then, she heard a voice - like a very deep, almost masculine tone - but quiet enough not to wake her parents. Lucy always slept with the door open and the landing light on, as she was a little scared of the dark. Therefore she could hear more through her open door. Lucy heard the voice say "Lucy, I'm on the first step"...And then loud scrabbling again as whatever was speaking apparently turned tail and returned to it's place of hiding.

Lucy didn't sleep a wink that night but laid in fear until the break of dawn when her mother got her up for school. Lucy tried to explain to her mother what had happened the night before, but was so tired that, when her mother passed it off as "just a dream" she didn't have the strength to argue.

Lucy begged her parents to get rid of the doll, but they insisted that it had been the great aunts wish that Lucy would have her doll. She checked the cupboard under the stairs, but Arabella was exactly where Lucy had left her. She reluctantly went back to bed.

That night, Lucy fought against sleeping but she eventually drifted off. Presently, the deep disembodied voice woke Lucy again. She wondered if she could only hear it in her head. "Luuuuucccccccyyyyy....I'm on the fifth step.." it said. Then came the scuffling noise and the voice didn't reoccur that night. Lucy was crying by now, and again she didn't sleep that night. At school, Lucy told her friends about the doll, and of course they laughed at her. Lucy could only think that if Arabella was climbing four steps at a time then there was only one more night to go.

That night Lucy decided to shut her bedroom door. When her mother turned her light out she asked why Lucy was no longer scared of the dark. Lucy replied that she was and could she leave her light on instead of the hall light? But her mother pointed out that her bedroom light was so bright it would keep her awake, and said no. Lucy reluctantly agreed to sleep without her light on. She opened the bedroom curtains instead to light the room a little anyway.

Just as she began to doze, she heard the noise. And then the voice "Luuucccyyyy... I'm on the top step..." Lucy knew her door was closed but was still terribly afraid. Her heart pounding, she knew if she stayed in bed she wouldn't be safe. So she got up to investigate. She screamed!

Lucy's parents found her body at the bottom of the stairs. They guessed she was on her way to the bathroom without switching on the hallway light and had fallen down the stairs breaking her neck. Arabella, the favorite family doll, was found beside her body. She was......smiling.

[orchestragirl]

the woman in grey

Two gentlemen were working in the town's small general store. The store was quiet and no customers were shopping until she walked in. A small frail woman dressed in grey entered the store, and proceeded toward the dairy section, saying nothing. She picked up a glass container of milk and, without paying for it or even glancing at the gentlemen, walked out of the store.

The men, surprised by the woman's thievery, hurried out of the store after her...but she was gone.

A few days later, the incident occurred again.

The same small woman dressed in the same grey dress entered the store, grabbed a glass container of milk, and left without paying. Again the men tried to follow after her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

After a couple of weeks, she appeared once again.

The same small woman, dressed in the same grey dress, entered the store, paid no attention to the men, snatched a glass container of milk, and vanished out the door. The men, slightly more prepared this time, quickly followed the woman out of the store. She hurried down the town's main street and the men found themselves having to run to keep up with her. She hastily turned down a dirt path, just at the edge of the woods. This is where the men lost her.

They trekked on further and came to a small cemetery neither of them knew existed. Suddenly, they heard a small noise. Concentrating, they identified it as a baby's cry...it was coming from the ground. The ground from which it was coming from was in front of a fresh gravestone marking the death of a mother and her infant who were buried together. Unsure of what else to do. the men quickly found shovels and exhumed the coffin. The crying became louder as they dug.

When they reached the coffin, they pried off the lid and inside found the small, grey-dressed woman...dead...with a live, crying infant in her arms...and three empty glass containers of milk. The poor child was mistakenly buried alive and the spirit of her deceased mother kept her alive until she was found.

[orchestragirl]

the call

Lisa's parents had gone to a party for the evening. And all poor Lisa had to do was stay home and watch her two little siblings, making sure they didn't get in any trouble. Wishing she were out hanging with her friends on a clear and beautiful Friday night instead of at home baby sitting the two kids, Lisa flicked on the TV in the den.

The kids were in the next room, the living room, playing with their toys. After flipping the channels for what seemed like hours, she finally came across a made-for-TV movie that looked pretty good. A romance, her favorite. As Lisa started to settle into the movie, the kids came in, saying that they were hungry and wanted something to eat. So while the kids took over the television, Lisa went into the kitchen to make spaghetti for the three of them.

Just as everything was about to be finished, the phone rang. Lisa went to answer but her little brother got to it first and said, "Hello? Smith residence." No answer. "Gimme the phone!" Lisa said, snatching from her brother. "Hello, who is this?" Lisa demanded. "I'm near" said the voice on the other side. "Near where?" Lisa replied, but there was nothing but a dial tone. A little shaken, Lisa checked on the kids and finished preparations for dinner. She set up the table and dished out spaghetti for everyone. After everyone chowed down, the kids decided to take a nap on the couch while Lisa finished up the movie. As she turned on the TV, she saw it was almost over. "Great... she mumbled right before the phone rang again.

Forgetting the previous episode, she ran to the phone before it woke the kids and shattered her peace. Snatching up the receiver, she blurted, "Hello?". "I'm closer" reported the other end. "Huh, excuse me?" said Lisa. But once again, nothing but a dial tone. Lisa was bugging out now. "I'm near, I'm closer?" "What the heck?" she wondered aloud. Deciding to get to the bottom of it she called the operator. "Yes, how may I help you?" the operator said.
"I'm getting a couple of strange phone calls here and I was wondering if you can tell me where they came from?" asked Lisa.
"No," replied the operator, "but I could put a tap on your line and the next time he calls I can tell you where it came from." Lisa thanked the operator and hung up.

She walked over to the kids and woke them up. She didn't want to scare them but she had to have them awake in case of emergency. Lisa deliberated on calling her parents, but she decided that she is old enough to handle this herself. "I'm 17, and I'm brave" Lisa knew, "I can handle this". Just as she was summoning her courage, the phone rang. Lisa told the kids to stay quiet and on the couch. She answered the phone with a faint, "Hello?" The weirdo said, "I'm here now, and my, it is so sharp..." He giggled in the background.. "Huh? Wh.. What's so sharp?" Lisa blurted. "Where are you?" But the man hung up. Instantly the phone rang again. It was operator. "Get out now! Those calls are coming from inside your house! I will call the police! Get out!"

Lisa slammed down the phone, grabbed her keys and the kids and flew out the front door. They got in the car and locked all the doors..All of a sudden, police cars came roaring up the driveway. One car checked on the kids while four policeman burst into the house. They searched everywhere until they finally came to the attic. Upon going in they found a young man standing in the corner with a cellular phone and a butcher knife, getting ready to head downstairs.

[shaniagal]

The Arabella one is REALLYYYY scary. I'm actually really scared by that one..but the woman in grey is sort of more sad than scary.

[shaniagal]

The Lisa one is scary too, but has a happy ending I guess.

[orchestragirl]

The Driver

A woman has just left a mini-mart after purchasing a few odds and ends for supper that night. She walks to her big four wheel drive vehicle and climbs in. She puts her bag over on the passenger seat along with her purse, she settles in and starts up the engine. She pulls out of the shopping center, onto the main road. It's about 8:00 and she is trying to rush home to get supper started, knowing that her husband will be starving.

As she drives she feels a chill run up her back, so she turns on a little heat. She has a very unusual bizarre feeling that she can't quite name. All of a sudden this maniac swerves by her car almost running her off the road. He stays along side her car waving and pointing at her, swerving dangerously all the while. She's frantically trying to keep control of her car while trying not to run into this maniacs car beside her. She finally speeds up and leaves the weirdo behind her.

She turns on the radio for some soothing, calming music.

She's relaxing, trying to talk herself into a calm state after the incident with the unknown driver. All of a sudden she sees bright lights flashing her from behind. She glances in the rear view mirror and it's the same car, driven by the psycho she's just encountered 3 minutes ago. She ignores him and concentrates on the road only to be flashed again from behind by the glaring lights. She once again looks in the mirror back at him. Her forgotten radio station is interrupted by a news flash about police helicopters in the area, on the trail of a serial killer. She turns the radio off and concentrates on the road and turns her attention away from the pesky car behind her. She's only a few miles from home and again the car behind her flashes a bright blinding light straight into her rear view mirror. She's had enough of this guy but she's not bold or stupid enough to stop and confront him.

She tries to lose him by going down some back roads. She's hoping he will go on his way and not follow. As she turns down another dirt road she sees his lights once again. She quickly picks up her cell phone and hits 911 quick dial. She tells the police the story of what's been happening. They assure her that they will send out some squad cars to meet her at her home, but she will need to drive around for about 10 more minutes so the police can get to her house before her. So she drives on, only to have the maniac drive up closer to her bumper, threatening to hit her car, flashing her each time.

She is frantic now and can't wait to pull into her driveway. After about 10 minutes she heads down the road to her home and the safety of her husbands arms. She sees the police cars ahead and suddenly feels all the pressure and frantic, wound up nerves in the back of her neck relax. She rolls into the driveway and the unrelenting car behind her rolls in behind her. The police are stationed outside her home in the bushes and in the neighbors bushes.

As the frightened women jumps out of her running car and runs to her husband who is waiting by the garage, the police approach the old man in his car. They have their guns drawn and they instruct him to get out of the car with his hands up. He's shocked and doesn't understand why the police are pointing guns at him. He gets out and the police start frisking him against his car. When he's asked about the incident and why he wanted to scare the woman. He looks up with sad eyes and says, "I was simply trying to save her life, but she wouldn't let me help her". The police are baffled and they know that they have a senile man on their hands. They ask him what he means by "saving" her life. The man says, "If you'd check in her car you'll find him. He has a knife in his hand. He tried to kill her over and over again. I flashed my lights so she would look up and he would then lie back down in the back of the seat".

Two policemen quickly run over and throw open the back door of the woman's car. A sharp glistening knife swipes out at the first policeman making no contact, the second policeman fire's immediately at the body and arm attached to the knife. The arm goes lifeless. The police quickly pull the body of the dead serial killer out from the lady's back seat. He was still clutching the knife he was going to use to kill her!

[orchestragirl]

Click-Clack

In a small town of Georgia there was an old man who had no legs. The only way he could move around was by dragging himself around by his long, long, nails. He was also a killer. He would sneak around the town and kill people with his long, long, nails. So, because of this, the people were ordered to go inside at exactly 6:00 pm and lock their doors until he was caught.

One night a little girl asked her mom if she could go play at her friends house. The mother looked at the clock, it was 4:00pm. She told the little girl to be home by 5:45 because thats when "click-click" came out. The little girl agreed and was on her way. She played and played but lost track of time because when she headed home, it was already 5:48. By the time she was close to her home it was 6:00 pm. She observed people locking their doors and calling in there kids.

"Shoot, I'd better run" she thought. Finally she reached her street. But that's when she heard the noise...click click drag click click drag. It got louder and louder. She turned around and there he was, Click-Clack! She ran to her front door...click clack drag click clack drag... She pounded on the door but her Mother had fallen asleep...Click Clack Drag Click Clack Drag... The pounding stopped.

Upon waking, and forgetting that her daughter had gone out to play the last evening, Mother opened the door to get her newspaper. She screamed in horror at the sight. Written on the step in blood was, "Mother, why didn't you open the door?" She was never seen again...

[Alex]

All great sotires:great: tired to read all of them but thanks for sharing:D

[shaniagal]

OMFG The Driver has such a crazy twist!

[Alex]

............................The Melt Shop................................

All the men working in the Melt Shop of the steel mill soon learned to be very careful around the furnace and the ladles full of molten steel. Every worker feared what would happen if the chains holding the ladles full of hot liquid ever broke while they passed overhead. Burning to death in molten steel might be a quick demise, but it would be agonizing.

One poor fellow who used to work in the Melt Shop had tripped over a rigger hose back in 1922 and had fallen into a ladle of hot steel. His body was immediately liquefied; there was nothing left for his family to bury save for a small nugget of steel that was skimmed from the tainted ladle before its contents was dumped into a vacant lot. From that day onward, the workers said that the workman's ghost clanked and moaned its way around the Shop at night, searching for his dead body.

Now the newest steel worker, a young man recently moved to Pittsburgh, laughed mockingly when he heard the story about the ghost. He even volunteered to work the late shift just to prove to the other men that they were wrong about the ghost. The young man liked the extra money this earned him, and soon his reputation for fearlessness and his scorn for the ghost were the talk of the mill.

There came an evening the young man found himself alone on the furnace floor. It was the slow time between shifts, and by rights he should already be on his way home. However, he had stayed behind for a moment to complete a small task, and he hummed contently to himself as he bent over his work. He gradually became aware of a muffled sound coming from somewhere to his left. He ignored it, since the mechanized processes all around him often made strange sounds.

The sound grew louder, and the young man looked up from his labors to see a glowing white mist gathering in the air a few yards away from where he stood. The mist emitted a faint rapping noise, which slowly clarified into steady thud of a workman's approaching footsteps.

The young man gasped, his arms breaking out into goosebumps in spite of the heat from the furnace. He watched with unblinking eyes and pounding heart as the mist solidified into the glowing figure of a workman making his rounds. Suddenly, the workman tripped and fell downwards in slow motion toward a shimmering ladle full of steaming molten steel. The phantom workman's body plunged into the hot liquid, and he tried in vain to grab the sides of the ladle and pull himself out, unwilling to believe that he was doomed. Then, his body liquefying beneath him and his face hideously twisted with pain, the ghostly workman screamed desperately for someone to save him as he sank downward into the red-hot ladle. With a final, hair-raising shriek, the apparition disappeared.

The young man's scream of sheer terror was so loud that it cut through the voice of the phantom, echoing and re-echoing through the furnace room. Dropping his tools as if he himself were burning up, the young man raced for the exit, followed by the gut-wrenching sound of maniacal laughter.

The young man packed his bag as soon as he got back to his lodgings and returned home, never to enter a Melt Shop again. But the ghost of the dead steel worker continued to haunt the Melt Shop until it closed.

They say that to this day, people walking near the spot where the Melt Shop once stood can still hear the steel worker's dying scream, followed by the sound of maniacal laughter.

[orchestragirl]

Room for one more

A young woman on her way to town broke her journey by staying with friends at an old manor house. Her bedroom looked out to the carriage sweep at the front door. It was a moonlit night, and she found it difficult to sleep. As the clock outside her bedroom door struck 12, she heard the noise of horses' hooves on the gravel outside, and the sound of wheels.

She got up and went over to the window to see who could be arriving at that time of night. The moonlight was very bright, and she saw a hearse drive up to the door. It hadn't a coffin in it; instead it was crowded with people. The coachman sat high up on the box: as he came opposite the window he drew up and turned his head. His face terrified her, and he said in a distinct voice, "There's room for one more."

She drew the curtain, ran back to bed, and covered her head with the bedclothes. In the morning she was not quite sure whether it had been a dream, or whether she had really got out of bed and seen the hearse, but she was glad to go up to town and leave the old house behind her.

She was shopping in a big store which had an elevator in it -- an up-to-date thing at that time. She was on the top floor, and went to the elevator to go down. It was rather crowded, but as she came up to it, the elevator operator turned his head and said, "There's room for one more."

It was the face of the coachman of the hearse. "No, thank you," said the girl. "I'll walk down." She turned away, the elevator doors clanged, there was a terrible rush and screaming and shouting, and then a great clatter and thud. The elevator had fallen and every person in it was killed!

[Alex]

................................The Death Waltz.....................................

Within an hour of my arrival at Fort Union, my new post, my best friend Johnny came to the barracks with a broad grin and a friendly clout on the shoulder. He'd hurried over as soon as he heard I had come, and we talked 'til sunset and beyond.

As soon as Johnny mentioned Celia's name, I knew he had it bad for her. To hear him talk, Celia was the most amazing woman who had ever graced God's green earth. She was the sister-in-law of the captain, and all the young men on the base were infatuated with her. Celia was the prettiest of the eligible ladies that graced Fort Union society. She liked the spice of adventure to be found so near the wilds.

Johnny alternated between elation when Celia talked with him and despair when she flirted with another man. I watched their courtship from afar and was troubled. There was something about Celia that I didn't like. I never mentioned it to Johnny, but I thought she was too much of a flirt. I wished Johnny had fallen for a nicer woman.

About a month after I arrived at Fort Union, a birthday dance was given for one of the officers. To Johnny's elation, Celia agreed to be his partner at the dance. Johnny was dancing on cloud nine all night, until a messenger came gasping into the room to report an Apache raid. With a small scream of terror, Celia clung shamelessly to Johnny and begged him not to go even though he was the lieutenant put in charge of the mission. Well sir, Johnny proposed to her right then and there and Celia accepted. Furthermore, Celia told Johnny that she would wait for him, and that if he didn't come back she would never marry. I doubted Celia's sincerity, but Johnny just ate it up.

I was assigned to Johnny's troop, so I had to leave too. We started out the next morning, and had a rough week tracking down and fighting the Apaches. Johnny split up the troop; taking command of the first group and giving me command of the second. My men reached the rendezvous point with no casualties, but only half of the other group arrived, and Johnny was not among them. They'd been ambushed by the Apaches. I had to take command of the troop. We searched for survivors, but never found Johnny's body. As soon as I could, I ordered the men to turn for home.

Celia made a terrible, heart-rending scene when she found out Johnny was missing. She flung herself into my arms when I gave her the news and sobbed becomingly. The display turned my stomach, it was so obviously insincere. I excused myself hastily and left her to the ministrations of the other soldiers. From that time on, I was careful to stay away from Celia, who mourned less than a week for my friend before resuming her flirtatious ways.

About a month later, a rich handsome lieutenant arrived at Fort Union. He was from the East, and Celia took a real shine to him. Johnny was completely forgotten and so was her promise to him. It wasn't long before Celia and the lieutenant were engaged and started planning a big wedding. Nothing but the very best would suit Celia, and her bridegroom had the money to indulge her.

Everyone in Fort Union was invited to the ceremony, and the weather was perfect on the day of the wedding. Everyone turned out in their best clothes and the wedding was a social success. After the ceremony, all the guests were invited to a celebratory ball.

We were waltzing around the ballroom when the door flew open with a loud bang. A gust of cold air blew in, dimming the candles. A heart-wrenching wail echoed through the room. The music stopped abruptly and everyone turned to look at the door. Standing there was the swollen, dead body of a soldier. It was dressed in an officer's uniform. The eyes were burning with a terrible fire. The temple had a huge gash from a hatchet-blow. There was no scalp. It was Johnny.

The whole crowd stood silent, as if in a trance. No one moved, no one murmured. I wanted to cry out when I recognized Johnny, but I was struck dumb like the rest of the wedding guests.

Johnny walked across the room and took Celia out of her bridegroom's arms. She was frozen in horror and could not resist. Johnny looked at the musicians. Still in a trance, they began to play a horrible, demonic sounding waltz. Johnny and Celia began to dance. They swept around and around the room, doing an intricate waltz. Johnny held the white-clad bride tight against his dead body while a deathly pallor crept over her face. Her steps slowed but still Johnny held her tight and moved them around in a grisly parody of a waltz. Celia's eyes bulged. She turned as white as her gown and her mouth sagged open. She gave one small gasp, and died in his arms.

Johnny dropped Celia's body on the floor and stood over her, wringing his blood-stained hands. He threw back his head and gave another unearthly wail that echoed around the room. Then he vanished through the door.

Released from the trance, the crowd gasped and exclaimed. The bridegroom ran to Celia and knelt beside her, wringing his hands in the same manner as Johnny. His cries were all too human.

Unable to bear the sight of the stricken bridegroom, I took my captain aside and asked permission to take a small detail back to the place where our troop had been attacked by the Apaches to search once more for my dead friend. He sent a dozen men with me. We combed the area, and finally found Johnny's body hidden in a crevice. It looked exactly the same as it had appeared on the night of Celia's wedding.

We brought Johnny back to the fort with us and the captain buried him beside Celia. Celia's bridegroom went back East shortly after we buried Johnny, and I resigned my commission a few days later and went home, never wanting to see that cursed place again.

I heard later that Celia's ghost was often seen at dusk, weeping over Johnny's grave, but I never went back to Fort Union to see it for myself.

[shaniagal]

Click-Clack is really creepy too!

[Alex]

..................................The Hook ........................................



The reports had been on the radio all day, though she hadn't paid much attention to them. Some crazy man had escaped from the state asylum. They were calling him the Hook Man since he had lost his right arm and had it replaced with a hook. He was a killer, and everyone in the region was warned to keep watch and report anything suspicious. But this didn't interest her. She was more worried about what to wear on her date.


After several consultation calls with friends, she chose a blue outfit in the very latest style and was ready and waiting on the porch when her boyfriend came to pick her up in his car. They went to a drive-in movie with another couple, then dropped them off and went parking in the local lover's lane. The blue outfit was a hit, and she cuddled close to her boyfriend as they kissed to the sound of romantic music on the radio.

Then the announcer came on and repeated the warning she had heard that afternoon. An insane killer with a hook in place of his right hand was loose in the area. Suddenly, the dark, moonless night didn't seem so romantic to her. The lover's lane was secluded and off the beaten track. A perfect spot for a deranged mad-man to lurk, she thought, pushing her amorous boyfriend away.

"Maybe we should get out of here," she said. "That Hook Man sounds dangerous."

"Awe, c'mon babe, it's nothing," her boyfriend said, trying to get in another kiss. She pushed him away again.

"No, really. We're all alone out here. I'm scared," she said.

They argued for a moment. Then the car shook a bit, as if something…or someone…had touched it. She gave a shriek and said: "Get us out of here now!"

"Jeeze," her boyfriend said in disgust, but he turned the key and went roaring out of the lover's lane with a screeching of his tires.

They drove home in stony silence, and when they pulled into her driveway, he refused to help her out of the car. He was being so unreasonable, she fumed to herself. She opened the door indignantly and stepped into her driveway with her chin up and her lips set. Whirling around, she slammed the door as hard as she could. And then she screamed.

Her boyfriend leapt out of the car and caught her in his arms. "What is it? What's wrong?" he shouted. Then he saw it. A bloody hook hung from the handle of the passenger-side door.

[orchestragirl]

I have to quit now, I'm starting to jump at small noises, lol! But I'll keep going later, thanks for the story Alex and glad you liked them so much Tillie! :)

[shaniagal]

Thanks for these stories! I'm going to read yours and Alex's 2 now!

[Alex]

You're welcome:D Here you go more:

[Alex]

Thanks for these stories! I'm going to read yours and Alex's 2 now!

OKat Tillie when you're done I wanna read your essay:p

[Alex]

........................Raw Head and Bloody Bones................................



Way back in the deep woods there lived a scrawny old woman who had a reputation for being the best conjuring woman in the Ozarks. With her bedraggled black-and-gray hair, funny eyes - one yellow and one green - and her crooked nose, Old Betty was not a pretty picture, but she was the best there was at fixing what ailed a man, and that was all that counted.


Old Betty's house was full of herbs and roots and bottles filled with conjuring medicine. The walls were lined with strange books brimming with magical spells. Old Betty was the only one living in the Hollow who knew how to read; her granny, who was also a conjurer, had taught her the skill as part of her magical training.


Just about the only friend Old Betty had was a tough, mean, ugly old razorback hog that ran wild around her place. It rooted so much in her kitchen garbage that all the leftover spells started affecting it. Some folks swore up and down that the old razorback hog sometimes walked upright like man. One fellow claimed he'd seen the pig sitting in the rocker on Old Betty's porch, chattering away to her while she stewed up some potions in the kitchen, but everyone discounted that story on account of the fellow who told it was a little too fond of moonshine.


"Raw Head" was the name Old Betty gave the razorback, referring maybe to the way the ugly creature looked a bit like some of the dead pigs come butchering time down in Hog-Scald Hollow. The razorback didn't mind the funny name. Raw Head kept following Old Betty around her little cabin and rooting up the kitchen leftovers. He'd even walk to town with her when she came to the local mercantile to sell her home remedies.


Well, folks in town got so used to seeing Raw Head and Old Betty around the town that it looked mighty strange one day around hog-driving time when Old Betty came to the mercantile without him.


"Where's Raw Head?" the owner asked as he accepted her basket full of home-remedy potions. The liquid in the bottles swished in an agitate manner as Old Betty said: "I ain't seen him around today, and I'm mighty worried. You seen him here in town?"


"Nobody's seen him around today. They would've told me if they did," the mercantile owner said. "We'll keep a lookout fer you."


"That's mighty kind of you. If you see him, tell him to come home straightaway," Old Betty said. The mercantile owner nodded agreement as he handed over her weekly pay.


Old Betty fussed to herself all the way home. It wasn't like Raw Head to disappear, especially not the day they went to town. The man at the mercantile always saved the best scraps for the mean old razorback, and Raw Head never missed a visit. When the old conjuring woman got home, she mixed up a potion and poured it onto a flat plate.


"Where's that old hog got to?" she asked the liquid. It clouded over and then a series of pictures formed. First, Old Betty saw the good-for-nothing hunter that lived on the next ridge sneaking around the forest, rounding up razorback hogs that didn't belong to him. One of the hogs was Raw Head. Then she saw him taking the hogs down to Hog-Scald Hollow, where folks from the next town were slaughtering their razorbacks. Then she saw her hog, Raw Head, slaughtered with the rest of the pigs and hung up for gutting. The final picture in the liquid was the pile of bloody bones that had once been her hog, and his scraped-clean head lying with the other hogsheads in a pile.


Old Betty was infuriated by the death of her only friend. It was murder to her, plain and simple. Everyone in three counties knew that Raw Head was her friend, and that lazy, hog-stealing, good-for-nothing hunter on the ridge was going to pay for slaughtering him.


Now Old Betty tried to practice white conjuring most of the time, but she knew the dark secrets too. She pulled out an old, secret book her granny had given her and turned to the very last page. She lit several candles and put them around the plate containing the liquid picture of Raw Head and his bloody bones. Then she began to chant: "Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones."


The light from the windows disappeared as if the sun had been snuffed out like a candle. Dark clouds billowed into the clearing where Old Betty's cabin stood, and the howl of dark spirits could be heard in the wind that pummeled the treetops.


"Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones."


Betty continued the chant until a bolt of silver lightning left the plate and streaked out threw the window, heading in the direction of Hog-Scald Hollow.


When the silver light struck Raw Head's severed head, which was piled on the hunter's wagon with the other hog heads, it tumbled to the ground and rolled until it was touching the bloody bones that had once inhabited its body. As the hunter's wagon rumbled away toward the ridge where he lived, the enchanted Raw Head called out: "Bloody bones, get up and dance!"


Immediately, the bloody bones reassembled themselves into the skeleton of a razorback hog walking upright, as Raw Head had often done when he was alone with Old Betty. The head hopped on top of his skeleton and Raw Head went searching through the woods for weapons to use against the hunter. He borrowed the sharp teeth of a dying panther, the claws of a long-dead bear, and the tail from a rotting raccoon and put them over his skinned head and bloody bones.


Then Raw Head headed up the track toward the ridge, looking for the hunter who had slaughtered him. Raw Head slipped passed the thief on the road and slid into the barn where the hunter kept his horse and wagon. Raw Head climbed up into the loft and waited for the hunter to come home.


It was dusk when the hunter drove into the barn and unhitched his horse. The horse snorted in fear, sensing the presence of Raw Head in the loft. Wondering what was disturbing his usually-calm horse, the hunter looked around and saw a large pair of eyes staring down at him from the darkness in the loft.


The hunter frowned, thinking it was one of the local kids fooling around in his barn.


"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big eyes fer?" he snapped, thinking the kids were trying to scare him with some crazy mask.


"To see your grave," Raw Head rumbled very softly. The hunter snorted irritably and put his horse into the stall.


"Very funny. Ha,ha," The hunter said. When he came out of the stall, he saw Raw Head had crept forward a bit further. Now his luminous yellow eyes and his bears claws could clearly be seen.


"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big claws fer?" he snapped. "You look ridiculous."


"To dig your grave…" Raw Head intoned softly, his voice a deep rumble that raised the hairs on the back of the hunter's neck. He stirred uneasily, not sure how the crazy kid in his loft could have made such a scary sound. If it really was a crazy kid.


Feeling a little spooked, he hurried to the door and let himself out of the barn. Raw Head slipped out of the loft and climbed down the side of the barn behind him. With nary a rustle to reveal his presence, Raw Head raced through the trees and up the path to a large, moonlight rock. He hid in the shadow of the huge stone so that the only things showing were his gleaming yellow eyes, his bear claws, and his raccoon tail.


When the hunter came level with the rock on the side of the path, he gave a startled yelp. Staring at Raw Head, he gasped: "You nearly knocked the heart right out of me, you crazy kid! Land o' Goshen, what have you got that crazy tail fer?"


"To sweep your grave…" Raw Head boomed, his enchanted voice echoing through the woods, getting louder and louder with each echo. The hunter took to his heels and ran for his cabin. He raced passed the old well-house, passed the wood pile, over the rotting fence and into his yard. But Raw Head was faster. When the hunter reached his porch, Raw Head leapt from the shadows and loomed above him. The hunter stared in terror up at Raw Head's gleaming yellow eyes in the ugly razorback hogshead, his bloody bone skeleton with its long bear claws, sweeping raccoon's tail and his gleaming sharp panther teeth.


"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big teeth fer?" he gasped desperately, stumbling backwards from the terrible figure before him.


"To eat you up, like you wanted to eat me!" Raw Head roared, descending upon the good-for-nothing hunter. The murdering thief gave one long scream in the moonlight. Then there was silence, and the sound of crunching.


Nothing more was ever seen or heard of the lazy hunter who lived on the ridge. His horse also disappeared that night. But sometimes folks would see Raw Head roaming through the forest in the company of his friend Old Betty. And once a month, on the night of the full moon, Raw Head would ride the hunter's horse through town, wearing the old man's blue overalls over his bloody bones with a hole cut-out for his raccoon tail. In his bloody, bear-clawed hands, he carried his raw, razorback hogshead, lifting it high against the full moon for everyone to see.

[Alex]

..............................The Storm Hag.....................................

She lurks below the surface of the lake near Presque Isle, her lithe form forever swimming through the weeds and the mire. Pale and green of skin, her yellow eyes shine luminously in the dark, and her thin long arms wrap themselves around the unwary, while foul-green pointed teeth sink into soft flesh and sharp nails at the end of long bony fingers stroke you into the deepest sleep there is. She is called by many names, but to sailors of Lake Erie, she is known as the Storm Hag.

The creature is a sea witch, an evil Jenny Greenteeth who summoned the storms and pulled shipwrecked sailors down into her evil embrace to live with her forever at the bottom of the lake. Sometimes she waits until the calm right after the storm to attack. When the sailors relax their guard, lulled into thinking that the danger had passed with the storm, the Storm Hag bursts forth from the dark waters of the lake, spewing forth lightening and wind like venom. And the ship will vanish - never to be seen again.

There is only one warning before she strikes. If you listen closely, you can hear her singing against the harsh wind and the thrashing waves:

"Come into the water, love,
Dance beneath the waves,
Where dwell the bones of sailor-lads
Inside my saffron cave."

If you can, flee immediately, for the Storm Hag is right beside you. If you cannot, then pray to your God for mercy, for the Storm Hag will grant you none. Her whirlpool will suck down your ship, and her long green arms will lovingly stroke you into the depths of the lake, where she will feast on your body among the weeds.

[Alex]

One of the last fav..

................The Goblin of Easton......................

There was once a monk at the mission who loved money and power more than he loved God. He would hear the confession of the good folk who attended the mission, and then would blackmail them into giving him gold and silver to keep their darkest secrets. He turned many a wayward sinner's feet towards the fires of hell rather than the gates of heaven, encouraging their crimes in secret while he reviled them in public.

It was after he beat one poor old woman to death that the evil monk was imprisoned and sentenced to hang for his crimes. But just after he was cut down from the noose and pronounced dead, his corpse began to transform before the horrified eyes of the people. The face twisted and small tusks sprang from either side of his nose. His shock of white hair grew long and greasy, and two pointed canines emerged from his slit of a mouth. The goblin-monk opened eyes that glowed yellow even in the light of noon-day, and sprang to feet that now ended in claws rather than toes.

The people screamed and fled, and no prayer of his former brothers-in-faith could banish the goblin. It disappeared deep into the forest, only to return at night and prey upon the monks of the mission who had been responsible for its death. After five of the brothers had fallen to the goblin, the rest of the monks abandoned the mission and moved to another part of the country. Since that time, the mission-house had slowly fallen into ruin.

[Alex]

...................................The Bells.........................................

There once was an evil priest who did not fear God or man. His duties for the church included counting the offerings and ringing the bells to summon people to Mass. But his heart was filled with greed, and he began to take advantage of the good people of his parish. The priest stole money out of the offerings to keep for himself, and when he had filled a chest full of gold, he killed a man and buried him with the chest so the murdered man's ghost would guard it. Anyone who tried to dig for the treasure would be devoured by the skeleton of the murdered man.

The evil priest planned to return to Spain with his ill-gotten treasure, but he fell ill with a fever a week before his ship was scheduled to leave. On his deathbed, the priest repented of his crime. He swore to his confessor that his soul would not rest until he returned the gold to God. The priest died before he could reveal the place where the treasure was buried. As he gasped out his last breath, he said: "Follow the bells. They will lead you to the treasure."

The Padre who attended the dying priest did not heed his words. But the sweeper who was working in the hallway at the time of the evil priest's death was struck by the notion of buried treasure. He was very poor and wanted a better life for himself and his family, so the sweeper determined to take the treasure for himself. Each night for a week, he took a shovel and dug in the monastery gardens, searching for the priests treasure. He found nothing.

One night the sweeper was awakened from his dreams by the sound of the parish bells ringing out loudly in the darkness. He leapt to his feet, fearing some emergency, and then realized that his wife and children had not stirred in their beds. Remembering the evil priest's last words, the sweeper felt sure that the mysterious ringing of the bells was for his ears alone, to lead him to the treasure.

Taking his shovel, the sweeper followed the sound of the church bells up and up into the hills. He was gasping for breath when he reached the source of the sound. He was on a wide ledge overlooking the valley. Two trees guarded the spot, and it was beside these trees that the glowing, ghostly church bells hovered. Taking his shovel, the poor sweeper dug a deep hole among the roots of the trees. After several moments, his shovel hit something hard! Eagerly, he swept the dirt away from the object and found a small chest. He hauled it out of the ditch with trembling hands, placed it on a rock, and broke the lock with the edge of his shovel. when he opened it, piles of yellow gold met his dazzled eyes. He gathered up a handful of coins, reveling in the weight of so much money. The coins were cool to his touch, and he felt the smoothness of the metal as he rubbed the coins between his fingers. And that was when he heard the moaning...

Looking up, the sweeper saw the skeleton of the murdered man whom the evil priest had buried with the treasure. It was rising out of the pit under the trees, eye sockets glowing with blue flames. "Mine," the skeleton intoned, stretching its bony arms toward the sweeper. "Mine!"

The sweeper screamed in terror and leapt away from the box of treasure, dropping the coins that he held in his hands. He ran down the hill as fast as he could go, the skeleton in hot pursuit. Behind him, the bells began to ring again as he fled for his life from the ledge.

The sweeper kept running long after the sounds of pursuit ceased, and did not stop until he reached his home. It was only then that he realized he had left his shovel back with the buried treasure on top of the hill. it was an expensive shovel and he could not afford to lose it.

Waiting until daylight, the sweeper went reluctantly back up into the hills to retrieve it. When he reached the ledge, there was no sign of the skeleton, the chest of money, or the hole he had dug the night before. He found his shovel at the top of a tall tree whose first branches began nearly twenty feet above his head. The skeleton must have placed it there after it chased him down the hill, he decided grimly, knowing that there was no way he could retrieve it.

Turning sadly away, the sweeper's eye was caught by a gleam in the bushes near the rock where he had placed the treasure chest the night before. Carefully, keeping his eye on the place where the skeleton lay buried, the sweeper felt around the rock until his hand closed on two gold coins that the ghost had missed. Casually he put the coins in his pocket and hurried from the ledge. When he got home, the sweeper put the coins into a sock and hid it under the floorboard for safekeeping.

The sweeper never went back to the ledge to retrieve the evil priest's buried treasure, though sometimes he was still awakened by the mysterious sound of the bells. He knew it would take someone more pious than himself to banish the ghost of the murdered man and reclaim the money for God. But he did use the gold coins to send his eldest son to school, and with the left-over change, he bought himself a new shovel.

[shaniagal]

Bye Julia, thanks for all the stories, I loved 'em.

[shaniagal]

Whoa! Those are alot Alex, I'm gonna read them now.

[Alex]

Well.. Let's start to read them now:D I did read a bit some of them, not all:D

[Alex]

.........................The Girl in White...............................

He was sulking a little, standing at the sidelines while all the other men danced with their pretty partners. His girl had not come to the dance that night. Her mother was ill, and so his girl had remained at her side. A fine pious act, he thought sourly, but it left him at loose ends.

His friend, Ernesto, came up to him between sets with a cold drink and some words of encouragement. "After all, Anita is not the only girl in the world," Ernesto said. "There are many pretty girls here tonight. Dance with one of them."

Bolstered by his friend's words, he started looking around the dance hall. His eye fell upon a beautiful young girl standing wistfully at the edge of the floor beside the door to the terrace. She was dressed in an old-fashioned white gown and her skin was pale as the moon. Her dark eyes watched the dance hungrily from her position behind a tall fern, and he felt his heart beat faster. Such a lovely woman should be dancing!

He made his way through the bustling crowd and bowed to the girl in white. She looked startled by his addresses, as if she had not expected anyone to notice her that night. But she readily assented to dance with him, and he proudly led her out onto the floor for the next set, all thoughts of Anita gone from his mind.

Ernesto and some of his other friends gave him odd looks as he danced with the girl in white. A few times, the man opposite them bumped right into them as if he had not seen his partner at all. He was furious and wanted to stop the dance and make the man apologize to the girl in white, but she just laughed and hushed him.

When the dance was over, he hurried to get his fair partner a drink. Ernesto approached him at the refreshment table. "When I told you to dance, I meant with a partner," his friend teased him.

"I was dancing with a partner," he replied, irritated by his friends remark. "The loveliest girl in all of Mexico!"

"You've had too much to drink, my friend," Ernesto replied. "You were dancing by yourself out there!"

He glared at his friend and turned away without answering him. Making his way back to the girl in white, he handed her a glass and asked her to stroll with him along the terrace. The night was beautiful, the sky full of stars, and he stared at the girl in white with his heart in his eyes as they stood looking out over the beautiful scene.

The girl in white turned to him with a sigh and said: "Thank you for the dance, Senor. It has been a very long time since I had such pleasure."

"Let us dance again, then," he said infatuatedly. But she shook her head.

"I must leave now," she said, catching up her skirts with one hand and drifting toward the stairs at the side of the terrace.

"Please don't go," he pleaded, following her.

"I must," she said, turning to look at him. Her eyes softened when she saw the look on his face. "Come with me?" she invited, holding out a pale hand.

His heart pounded rapidly at the thought. More than anything in the world, he wanted to go with this lovely girl. And then his mind registered the fact that he could see the stone wall of the terrace through the girl's hand. His desire melted away before the shock of that realization. He looked into her face again, and realized that she was fading away before his eyes.

At the look of horror on his face, the girl gave a sad laugh and dropped her hand, which was nearly transparent now.

"Goodbye," she said, her body becoming thin and misty. "Goodbye."

Then she was gone.

He gave a shout of terror when he realized he had been dancing with a ghost. He bolted from the premises, leaving his horse behind, and ran all the way home.

When Ernesto came the next day to bring him his horse, he told his friend the whole story. Ernesto whistled in awe. "You saw the spirit of Consuela, my friend," he said. "She was the daughter of one of the local aristocracy who lived in this region more than a hundred years ago. She died of consumption the night before her first ball and they say her spirit sometimes attends the local dances, hoping to claim one of the dances that she missed."

He shuddered at the thought of his dance with the ghost. "I will not be visiting that dance hall again," he told Ernesto. "From now on, all my dances will be with Anita!"

And he kept his word.

[Alex]

..............................The Were-wolf's Bride..........................

There once was a beautiful girl engaged to a soldier who caught the eye of an evil woodsman who had sold his soul for the ability to turn himself into a wolf at will. He lay in wait for the girl when she was walking home one day and accosted her, begging her to elope with him. The maiden refused, spurning his love and crying out to her love to save her from his advances.


The girl's cries were heard by her eager fiancé, who had come searching for her when she was late returning to her parent's home. The soldier drove the woodsman away, threatening him with dire consequences if he ever approached the maiden again.

The furious woodsman lay low for a few days, waiting for his chance. It came on the girl's wedding day. She was dancing happily at her wedding reception with a group of her friends when the woodsman, in the form of a wolf, leapt upon her and dragged her away with him.

The enraged bridegroom gave chase, but the wolf and his bride had disappeared into the thick forest and were not seen again. For many days, the distraught soldier and his friends, armed with silver bullets, scoured the woods, searching for the maiden and her captor. Once the soldier thought he saw the wolf and shot at it. Upon reaching the location, he found a piece of a wolf's tail lying upon the ground. But of the wolf to which it belonged there was no sign.

After months of searching, his friends begged him to let the girl go and get on with living. But the soldier was half-mad with grief and refused to give up. And that very day, he found the cave where the were-wolf lived. Within it lay the preserved body of his beloved wife. The girl had refused the were-wolf's advances to the very end, and had died for it. After his murderous fury had died away, the were-wolf had tenderly laid the body of the girl he had loved and had killed into a wooden coffin, where it would be safe from predators, and he came to visit her grave every day. Lying in wait for him, the soldier shot the were-wolf several times as he entered the cavern, chasing him down until the maddened and dying were-wolf leapt into the lake and disappeared from view. The soldier sat by the lake with his gun, staring into the rippling waters for hours as the catfish ate the bloody bits of the wolf that were floating on the surface of the water.

When his friends found him, the soldier's mind was gone. He babbled insanely about a were-wolf that had been eaten by a catfish when it leapt into the water, and he sobered only long enough to lead the men to the body of his beloved before he collapsed forevermore into insanity. He died a few days later, and was buried beside his bride in a little glen where they had planned to build there house. Their grave is long forgotten, and the place where it stands is covered with daisies in the spring. But to this day, the people of the area have a prejudice against eating catfish, though no one remember why.

[Alex]

............................Black Bartelmy's Ghost....................................

Black Bartelmy was an evil, surly buccaneer who murdered his wife and children and went to sea with a band of pirates as nasty as he. He roamed the Atlantic coast, murdering and pillaging and laying waste to the countryside as he passed. By the time he approached Cape Forchu in Nova Scotia, Black Bartelmy had a ship loaded with treasure; five hundred chests had he full of gold and jewels and goblets and mighty swords.

A thick Fundy fog lay over the bay as the ship approached, and the treacherous Fundy tide soon took hold of the evil man's ship. The crashing, churning waters of the Roaring Bull, that dangerous ledge of rocks near Cape Forchu, took the pirates ship and smashed its hull.

But Captain Bartelmy spotted land to the starboard side of the ship. He and his trusted mate Ben the Hook had the crew loaded up the escape boat with every treasure chest they could fit. Then the bold pirate had his first mate murder the other buccaneers so they would not have to share the treasure with them. Ben the Hook crouched just out of sight in the rocking escape boat and slit each man's throat with his hook as the seaman bent to place his burden in the hold. Then Ben threw each body over the side of the ship into the churning waters below so that the next pirate would not sense a trap when he came forward with his treasure.

When the treasure was loaded into the boat, Bartelmy and Ben the Hook rowed into the calmer waters of the cape. They searched for a place to bury their treasure. Finding a large cave, they piled each chest inside and then covered the entrance with rocks. As Ben the hook rolled the last boulder into place, Bartelmy thrust a sword deep into his chest, twisting it with an evil laugh, and watched as his mate fell dead at his feet.

Knowing that he had to leave this remote spot or starve, the evil pirate captain walked along the edge of the water, searching for a town or a harbor where he might row the escape boat. But Black Bartelmy soon found himself mired in quicksand with no one to save him. Only the gulls heard his dying curses ringing over the cape as he sank down and down into the mire and was engulfed.

One stormy night soon after the pirate's death, the keeper of the local lighthouse saw a flare going up in the direction of the Roaring Bull. Thinking it is a ship in trouble; the keeper called together a lifeboat crew and launched their boat into the icy waters, heading for the Roaring Bull. But as they approach the vessel in distress, they saw an ancient galleon with tattered sails. Its decks were piled high with treasure chests spilling over with gold. Astride the deck is a solitary man in black. The evil pirate grinned wickedly down at them, gesturing grandly with his cutlass. As the breakers overwhelmed their boat, the last thing the keeper and the rescuers heard was the sound of Black Bartelmy's ghost, laughing.

They say that the ghost of Black Bartelmy continues to haunt the Cape and the Roaring Bull to this day, and that any rescue crew summoned to save a vessel off the Roaring Bull should take every precaution, because the distressed vessel might not really be there.

[Alex]

A short one..

.......................................Army of the Dead.......................................

A laundress, newly moved to Charleston following the Civil War, found herself awakened at the stroke of twelve each night by the rumble of heavy wheels passing in the street. But she lived on a dead end street, and had no explanation for the noise. Her husband would not allow her to look out the window when she heard the sounds, telling her to leave well enough alone. Finally, she asked the woman who washed at the tub next to hers. The woman said: "What you are hearing is the Army of the Dead. They are Confederate soldiers who died in hospital without knowing that the war was over. Each night, they rise from their graves and go to reinforce Lee in Virginia to strengthen the weakened Southern forces."

The next night, the laundress slipped out of bed to watch the Army of the Dead pass. She stood spell-bound by the window as a gray fog rolled passed. Within the fog, she could see the shapes of horses, and could hear gruff human voices and the rumble of canons being dragged through the street, followed by the sound of marching feet. Foot soldiers, horsemen, ambulances, wagons and canons passed before her eyes, all shrouded in gray. After what seemed like hours, she heard a far off bugle blast, and then silence.

When the laundress came out of her daze, she found one of her arms was paralyzed. She has never done a full days washing since.

[Alex]

The tipical mexican legend of all time:

.......................The Llorona, Omen of Death.........................................

They say that the Llorona was once a poor young girl who loved a rich nobleman, and together they had three children. The girl wished to marry the nobleman, but he refused her. He told her that he might have considered marrying her if she had not born the three out-of-wedlock children, which he considered a disgrace. The girl was determined to have the nobleman for her own, so she drowned her children to prove her love to him. But still he would have none of her and married another. Mad with grief, the girl walked along the river, weeping and calling for her children. But they were gone. So she drowned herself. For her crime, her spirit was condemned to wander the waterways, weeping and searching for her children until the end of time. It was said that whenever the wailing woman appears, someone will die.


Now I have heard that one night, two young men were out driving in their car one summer night with the windows down when they heard a terrible wail. It sounded like the desperate cry of a baby or perhaps an injured tom-cat. Beside the road, a white mist began to gather. It moved in front of a grove of palm trees and became the figure of a lovely young girl dressed all in white. Long dark hair hung loose down her back. She began to weep and wring her hands in agony, and the men realized that they were seeing the ghost of the Llorona. The driver gunned the engine and they drove away as fast as they could. The glowing figure of the Llorona remained visible in the rear-view mirror until the car turned the corner.

The men were upset by the vision, afraid that the rumors about her might be true. But nothing happened to them the rest of that night. After a few drinks to calm themselves, they were able to laugh away the incident. And in the golden light of the next morning, the young men decided they had imagined the whole thing.

The night after the ghost sighting, the two men were riding home passed the place where they had seen the Llorona when their car spun out of control. The automobile hit a tree in the palm grove where the Llorona had appeared the previous night, and both men were killed instantly.

[Alex]

............................The Black Dog of Hanging Hills..........................

He smiled as his sipped at his coffee. It had been an excellent hike. He was glad his friend had recommended coming to the Hanging Hills in Connecticut; not the first place that had come to his mind when considering a vacation. But it was beautiful here. When his friend arrived tomorrow they would tackle some of the more challenging terrain.


“Did you have a nice hike?” asked the innkeeper as she refilled his cup.

“Yes indeed. I had some unexpected company,” he said with a smile.

“Really? I thought you were the only one crazy enough to go hiking in the rain,” she teased.

“It was a little black dog,” he said. “Cute fellow. Followed me all the way up the mountain and down again.”

He looked up from his coffee to see the innkeeper’s face had gone pale.

“A black dog?” she asked. “That’s not good.”

“Why not?”

“We have a saying around here,” she replied. “’And if a man shall meet the Black Dog once, it shall be for joy; and if twice, it shall be for sorrow; and the third time, he shall die.’” He laughed. “That’s just superstition.”

“That’s what Mr. Pynchon said. He saw the black dog twice. The second time he saw the dog, the friend he was climbing with fell to his death. And later, Mr. Pynchon decided to climb the same mountain, and he died too. Everyone here believes he saw the dog just before he fell.”

“Nonsense. It was just a cute stray,” he said uneasily. She shrugged and took the coffee pot over to her other customers.

His friend arrived the next morning and they both laughed about the story of the black dog. They set out on their climb. About halfway up the mountain, he looked up and saw the black dog.

“There’s the dog,” he called to his friend.

And then his foot slipped and he plunged down the side of the hill, desperately grabbing at saplings and rocks, trying to halt his descent. It seemed to take forever for him to stop sliding. There was a stabbing pain in his leg. When he looked at it, his head swimming, it was bent at an odd angle. They had to send in a mountain rescue team to get him down. At the hospital, they told him his leg was broken in two places and he was very lucky it wasn’t worse.

“You know, that was a very strange fall,” said his friend uneasily. “You don’t really think it had anything to do with that black dog?”

He looked down at the cast that extended all the way up to his hip.

“I don’t know. But I don’t really want to find out. Next time, let’s go to Colorado.”

His friend agreed.

[orchestragirl]

Now, some more variations of the scariest urban legend of all...the killer in the back of the car. I swear, I'm so scared of this one that I won't even get into the car without checking the backseat first!

[orchestragirl]

On a moonless, foggy night, my friend was sleepy and having trouble driving on the road due to a recent rain. She was getting frustrated because she was running low on gas and there was no sign of civilization anywhere. Not knowing where the next town was, she was ready to pull over and get some sleep when she noticed a tiny, rundown gas station.



She pulled in and asked for the attendant to fill up her tank. She noticed he was acting very odd -- and somewhat irritated. He finally proceeded to fuel her car and then told her to open up the hood because "something didn't sound right."



Reluctant and afraid of the odd-acting attendant, she didn't want to be stranded later on down the road, so she got out. When she neared the front of the car, the attendant grabbed her and said she would have to step inside. With his hand over her mouth silencing her, he dragged her into the station.



Very afraid, she struggled, and the attendant let her go and blocked the door. He then said "There is a man crouched down in the backseat of your car and I didn't want him to know that I'd seen him."



After calling the police, my friend then learned that the stranger in her backseat was a serial killer who stowed away in her back seat, planning to make her his next victim.

[orchestragirl]

While inside paying and getting a coffee to keep her awake while she drives home, a madman crawls into the backseat of her unlocked SUV. He is unseen by the woman, however just as she is getting into her car, the gas attendant sees the madman stand up as if to hack her to bits with his axe.



So he jumps into his car. The woman sees this and becomes afraid. The gas attendant Ernie follows the woman and each time he sees the man sit up he flashes his lights so the man must lie down to be unseen. Ernie follows the woman all the way to her driveway flashing his lights a total of 54 times.



The woman jumps out of her car before it even stops and her husband comes running out of the house. "This man Ernie phoned me on his cell phone saying there was a killer trying to kill you and he was hiding in the SUV backseat" the woman starts screaming.



Ernie had apparently gotten her home phone number from the credit card she had used to pay for the coffee and gas. They trapped the madman in the backseat until the cops arrived. It turned out that he was an estranged man who had escaped from a mental institution not far from the gas station!

[Troll]

An interesting thread. Some interesting stories.

[Alex]

Here you go more:D

.................................The Bloodstain...................................

The Phelps place was an old, abandoned property with a monstrous, decrepit Victorian house that was supposed to be haunted. It should have been a good resting place for the local deer hunters, but they would not go near it. A few that tried came away before midnight with tales of ghostly thumping noises, gasps, moans, and a terrible wet bloodstain that appeared on the floor of the front porch and could not be wiped away.


Phelps was an Englishman who had purchased land some 20 miles off the Mendocino coast in the 1880s. He had built a huge, fancy Victorian house all covered with gingerbread trimmings and surrounded by lovely gardens. When everything was arranged to his liking, he sent out party invitations to everyone within messenger range. It was the biggest social event of the year, with music and dancing and huge amounts of food. Sawhorse tables were set up with refreshments, and drinks were set out on the front porch. People came from miles around. The only one missing was old man McInturf's son-in-law. They had had a terrible fight that afternoon, and the boy had stalked off in a rage, threatening to get even with the old man.

Around midnight, the musicians took a recess and old man McInturf went out on the front porch with some friends. Suddenly there came the thunder of hooves rushing up the lane. A cloaked figure rode towards the lantern-lit porch. McInturf put down his drink. "That will be my son-in-law," he told his friends as he went down the steps. The cloaked figure stopped his horse just outside the pool of lantern-light. There was a sharp movement and two loud shots from a gun. Old man McInturf staggered backwards, shot in the throat and the chest. The cloaked man wheeled his horse and fled down the lane as friends ran to the assistance of the old man.

They laid McInturf down on the porch. He was bleeding heavily and they were afraid to move him much. There was some talk of fetching the doctor, but everyone knew it was too late. So much blood was pouring from the old man's wounds that it formed a pool underneath his head. McInturf coughed, once, twice; a hideous, gurgling, strangling sound that wrenched at the hearts of all who heard it. Then he died.

McInturf's body was laid out on the sofa, and the once-merry guests left in stricken silence. The servants came and wiped the red-brown bloodstain off the floorboards. The next day, a wagon was brought to the front of the house and McInturf's body was carried out onto the porch. As the men stepped across the place where McInturf had died, blood began to pool around their boots, forming a wet stain in exactly the pattern that had been wiped up by the servants the night before. The men gasped in fear. One of them staggered and almost dropped the body. They hurriedly laid McInturf in the back of the wagon, and a pale Phelps ordered the servants to clean up the fresh bloodstain.

From that day forward, the Phelps could not keep that part of the porch clean. Every few weeks, the damp bloodstain would reappear. They tried repainting the porch a few times, but the bloodstain would always leak through. In the county jail, McInturf's son-in-law died of a blood clot in the brain. A few months later, one of the Phelps servants went mad after seeing a "terrible sight" that made his head feel like it was going to exploded. Folks started saying the house was being haunted by the ghost of McInturf, seeking revenge. The property was resold several times but each resident was driven out by the terrible, gasping ghost of McInturf reliving his last moments and by the bloodstain that could not be removed from the porch. The house was eventually abandoned.

[Alex]

...........................................The Cut-off............................................... .....

The devil was in the Mississippi River that night. You could feel it with every eddy swirling against the helm of the boat. You could hear it in every jangle of the bell. You could see it in the dim light of the lantern as it tried to pierce the swirling fog. You could sense it in the sound of the chugging engine. The devil was in the river. It was a bad night to be out in a paddleboat. But he had sworn when he set out that nothing could make him turn back.

No other pilot dared brave the Mississippi that night. They were all huddled in the tavern, gossiping. After an evening of listening to their empty boasts, he had made one himself. He knew the Mississippi River so well that he could guide his paddleboat on his run even through the thickness of the night's fog. When the other pilots heard his boast, they laughed and told him he would be back before midnight. He had grown angry at their jeers, and had sworn in front of them all that he would not turn back this night for any reason, should the Devil bar the way!

The paddle wheeler was rocking oddly under the strange eddies of the river. But he knew every turn and guided her along despite the fog. He was almost to Raccourci when he saw shore where no shore had ever been before.

He turned the boat this way and that. It could not be! The river ran straight through on this branch. He had guided his paddleboat through this place a hundred times.

But the devil must have been listening at the tavern and had heard his boast, for the Mississippi had shifted! He swore every curse he knew, and kept searching for a way through. He had vowed to complete his run without turning back and he was determined to carry out his vow. He would never go back. Never! He would stay there until daybreak, and beyond if need be.

Suddenly, the paddleboat gave a massive jerk. The engine stalled. The boat shuddered and overturned. When the fog lifted the next day, they found his paddleboat sunk to the bottom with a gaping hole in its side, and the pilot drowned.

On foggy nights, you can still hear the ring of the bell, the sound of the engine and the curses of the ghost captain trying to complete his run.

[Alex]

....................................Dancing with the Devil .......................................

The girl hurried through her schoolwork as fast as she could. It was the night of the high school dance, along about 70 years ago in the town of Kingsville, Texas. The girl was so excited about the dance. She had bought a brand new, sparkly red dress for the dance. She knew she looked smashing in it. It was gone to be the best evening of her life.

Then her mother came in the house, looking pale and determined.

"You are not going to that dance," her mother said.

"But why?" the girl asked her mother.

"I've just been talking to the preacher. He says the dance is going to be for the devil. You are absolutely forbidden to go," her mother said.

The girl nodded as if she accepted her mother's words. But she was determined to go to the dance. As soon as her mother was busy, she put on her brand new red dress and ran down to the K.C. Hall where the dance was being held.

As soon as she walked into the room, all the guys turned to look at her. She was startled by all the attention. Normally, no one noticed her. Her mother sometimes accused her of being too awkward to get a boyfriend. But she was not awkward that night. The boys in her class were fighting with each other to dance with her.

Later, she broke away from the crowd and went to the table to get some punch to drink. She heard a sudden hush. The music stopped. When she turned, she saw a handsome man with jet black hair and clothes standing next to her.

"Dance with me," he said.

She managed to stammer a "yes", completely stunned by this gorgeous man. He led her out on the dance floor. The music sprang up at once. She found herself dancing better than she had ever danced before. They were the center of attention.

Then the man spun her around and around. She gasped for breath, trying to step out of the spin. But he spun her faster and faster. Her feet felt hot. The floor seemed to melt under her. He spun her even faster. She was spinning so fast that a cloud of dust flew up around them both so that they were hidden from the crowd.

When the dust settled, the girl was gone. The man in black bowed once to the crowd and disappeared. The devil had come to his party and he had spun the girl all the way to hell.

[Alex]

..........................................Dem Bones....................................

My granny was told as a child that Captain Kidd, knowing the law was on his trail, traveled up the Jersey coast looking for the perfect spot to bury his stolen booty. And he found it near a grove of gnarled, wind-swept pines on Sandy Hook. One moonless dark night, the Adventure Galley slid silently into harbor at Sandy Hook. Before the wondering eyes of two hidden watchers, a crew of scurvy buccaneers armed with cutlasses and pistols had rowed boatload after boatload of heavy chests into the shore. They were accompanied by a tall, proud man with red-whiskers and a cocked hat that the watchers recognized at once as the bold leader Captain Kidd. The captain led his men away from shore, and they disappeared with them into the grove of pines. The pirates were gone along time; long enough, according to those who watched, to bury any amount of treasure. They came away before dawn and rowed back to the Adventure Galley and sailed into the last vestiges of the dark night.


Of course, the eager watchers kept their knowledge quiet and scurried down to the pine grove a few days later, armed with lanterns and shovels. But nary a gold coin found they, and in frustration, they shared their tale with other good folks in the region. After that, there was not a night when the pine grove did not see someone digging fervently with a shovel. After a few decades of this, the pine grove gave up the ghost and died away completely. By my granny's time, there was nothing left of the spot save a few stunted trees, some wind-swept grass, and on certain dark nights, Dem Bones.

Dem Bones are the skeletal crew of Captain Kidd. According to my granny, they come sailing up in a ship made of shadows. The ship moves silently up the coast at the dark of the moon, and anchors near the shores of Sandy Hook. Two or three boats are lowered from her side, and they are filled up with the eager forms of glowing skeletons wearing cocked hats and tattered buccaneers garb. Around their waists are belts full of pistols and long cutlasses. The biggest of Dem Bones - the one that is probably the first mate - has a skeletal parrot perched on his shoulder.

Dem Bones carry heavy trunks full of treasure onto the shore and scatter them all around the place where the pine grove once stood. Then the pirate crew hauls out kegs and kegs of whiskey and one of the skeleton's takes out a fiddle. A phantom fire is lit on the sand, and Dem Bones start such a rowdy singing and dancing that the noise would wake the dead - if they weren't already awake. When they are exhausted from the dancing, the glowing skeletons collapse on the sand and start telling stories about the ships they have captured and the treasure they have amassed. Some of Dem Bones open the big trunks and take out jewels and ropes of pearls and adorn themselves. Others toss gold coins back and forth as if they were a child's ball. At the darkest part of the night, just before dawn, Dem Bones pack up the trunks and row back to the ship of shadows. One by one, the glowing skeletons disappeared into the hold and the ship draws anchor and sails away.

[Alex]

...........................The Express Train to Hell...................................

For days, a ragged old man had hung around the Newark Central Station. The stationmaster kept running him off, but night after night he would return. He kept accosting people, shouting: "It's coming for me! It's coming!" Whenever anyone asked him what was coming for him, he would just clutch his head and cry: "I done wrong! I killed a man that cheated me at cards, and now I'm going to pay!"


The stationmaster finally took the man aside and threatened to call the police if he did not cease and desist. The old man rolled his eyes and replied: "The Express Train for Hell is coming for my soul! You've got to help me." He broke away from the stationmaster and ran for the door. The time was two minutes to midnight. At that moment, new sound introduced itself. A long whistle blew, once, twice. The stationmaster was startled. The next train wasn't due until 12:05.

The old tramp started screaming when he heard the whistle. The stationmaster could hear the roar and chug of a steam train, approaching fast. Approaching too fast to stop at the station. The old man was standing at the edge of the platform, staring down the tracks in frozen terror. The stationmaster ran forward and grabbed hold of the old tramp to pull him out of harm's way.

The train whistle sounded again. A warm rush of air blew against everyone near the platform and the stationmaster heard the roar of an invisible train passing directly in front of him. He heard the hiss of the steam and the screech of flanges against iron rails; he felt the wind whipping our hair and faces, but he saw nothing.

Beneath his grip, the old tramp gave a terrible wail. Then he vanished, leaving the stationmaster empty-handed. The roar of the invisible train faded into the distance and then ceased. The stationmaster glanced at the station clock. It was midnight.

The stationmaster stared blanking at the tracks. Around him, the waiting passengers and other bystanders were gasping and murmuring in fright. "Good lord, he was right," the stationmaster murmured to himself. "It did come for him." He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his sweating, bald head with it.

A trembling man standing nearby approached the stationmaster: "Sir, what was that?" he asked. "Son, I believe that was the Express Train to Hell," said the stationmaster. He shook his head and that seem to bring him to his senses. "Why don't you go back into the station and pour yourselves a drink?" he suggested to the trembling man.

He pushed the man through the station door and then turned to address the dazed and frightened passengers. "Nothing to worry about folks," he said. "It was just an express train passing through. The next train will be here in five minutes." The stationmaster's reassuring manner calmed everyone. People turned away from the empty tracks and settled back into their seats, whispering to each other about the strange events that had just taken place.

Then the stationmaster went into his office, closed the door, and poured himself a stiff drink to calm his nerves. "Well, that's one for the books," he muttered aloud. "I wonder if I should put it on the schedule; 12 am-Express Train to Hell."

Shaking his head, he fortified himself with one more brandy and then went back to work.

[Alex]

..............................The Headless Horseman.................................

One cold winter night, early in the New Year, a certain Dutchman left the tavern in Tarrytown and started walking to his home in the hollow nearby. His path led next to the old Sleepy Hollow cemetery where a headless Hessian soldier was buried. At midnight, the Dutchman came within site of the graveyard. The weather had warmed up during the week, and the snow was almost gone from the road. It was a dark night with no moon, and the only light came from his lantern.

The Dutchman was nervous about passing the graveyard, remembering the rumors of a galloping ghost that he had heard at the tavern. He stumbled along, humming to himself to keep up his courage. Suddenly, his eye was caught by a light rising from the ground in the cemetery. He stopped, his heart pounding in fear. Before his startled eyes, a white mist burst forth from an unmarked grave and formed into a large horse carrying a headless rider.

The Dutchman let out a terrible scream as the horse leapt toward him at a full gallop. He took to his heels, running as fast as he could, making for the bridge since he knew that ghosts and evil spirits did not care to cross running water. He stumbled suddenly and fell, rolling off the road into a melting patch of snow. The headless rider thundered past him, and the man got a second look at the headless ghost. It was wearing a Hessian commander's uniform.

The Dutchman waited a good hour after the ghost disappeared before crawling out of the bushes and making his way home. After fortifying himself with schnapps, the Dutchman told his wife about the ghost. By noon of the next day, the story was all over Tarrytown. The good Dutch folk were divided in their opinions. Some thought that the ghost must be roaming the roads at night in search of its head. Others claimed that the Hessian soldier rose from the grave to lead the Hessian soldiers in a charge up nearby Chatterton Hill, not knowing that the hill had already been taken by the British.

Whatever the reason, the Headless Horseman continues to roam the roads near Tarrytown on dark nights from that day to this.

[tonyme]

spooky stories, Alex.. I spent 20 minutes to read them all;)

[Alex]

20min??:eek: In 20min I can hardly comprise the title:p

[orchestragirl]

Wow, this thread is growing fast! I'd add some more, but I'm getting sleepy and posting scary stories and going to bed...don't quite go together very well, lol! :nervous:

[Alex]

I'm tired of posting a lot, but maybe later, tomorrow cuz I gotta go to bed right now, I wanna take advantage of the new schedule here, it just changed and it's an hour baack, which I'm so happy:p So see you guys till tomorrow:]

[orchestragirl]

Found something about the Ojibway Tribe!

Windigo
The windigo is a Native American nightmare, invented in the subarctic by the Cree and Ojibwa peoples.

Let's set the scene: The subarctic is about 5 million sq km (2 million sq mi) of forest and tundra inhabited by fewer than 60,000 people. We're talking lonely. Winters last forever up there, and winter nights are long, cold, and dark.

In times past, the people who lived in this region spent winters holed up in their shelters, rationing out their dwindling food supplies, and telling tales. The most dreadful of these stories featured the windigo, a friendless creature that lives alone in the forest. It's 6 to 9 m (20 to 30 ft) tall and has a lipless mouth and jagged teeth. Its footprints in the snow are full of blood and you can hear its hissing breath for miles.

It eats people. And that's the good news.

The bad news is, if a windigo catches you alone in the forest, it can possess you. Then you turn into a windigo yourself--a mindless cannibal.

I think I see the underlying fear that glimmers through this story. Survival in the subarctic was a desperate struggle. Often, food ran out before winter did. Sometimes, well.... Cannibalism happens.

There you have the real horror of the windigo legend. Ask not what some monster might do to you; ask what you might do to someone should you become a monster.

Scare-o-meter rating: 11

[cftennisnative3]

How about some real stories? lol .... those are the scariest :eek:

[tonyme]

yeah!!! i got a real story lol...

donno if it's real but it goes this way: (a cousin told it to me with the real names and everything)
" A grandma died in her bed. She lived with her daughter's family in their house... Annie, the daughter, started to sleep in her late grandma's bed after a month of the tragedy...
Then, she claimed that when she woke up in the middle of the night, she saw her grandma sleeping next to her in the bed..."

:uhh: Spooky!

[Alex]

ow... Well, nothing new, I believe in that kinda things. Here happens things like that. I don't remember true stories by now, I've got by these moment of scary, but maybe I'm gonna write them paciently and publish them here..

Thanks for the mini story Tony.

[Troll]

Great finds.

[orchestragirl]

Since it's so close to Halloween, I'm bumping this one up for people to read, and might even add some more soon!

Feel free to add to the thread, guys - post stories you know or make one up! :)

[Alex]

Julia you cut my inspiration I've just created a new thread :funny:

LOL!! kidding thanks for updating :D

[Alex]

http://www.plaatjesplein.nl/button/HALLOWEEN.gif

:devil:

[orchestragirl]

Julia you cut my inspiration I've just created a new thread :funny:

LOL!! kidding thanks for updating :D


Haha! I bumped up this thread, and right after I saw your thread! Sorry! :eek:

[Alex]

LOL!! :biglaugh:

Don't worry it's cool too :D

[eileen_regina]

When Felix Agnus put up the life-sized shrouded bronze statue of a grieving angel, seated on a pedestal, in the Agnus family plot in the Druid Ridge Cemetery, he had no idea what he had started. The statue was a rather eerie figure by day, frozen in a moment of grief and terrible pain. At night, the figure was almost unbelievably creepy; the shroud over its head obscuring the face until you were up close to it. There was a living air about the grieving angel, as if its arms could really reach out and grab you if you weren't careful.

It didn't take long for rumors to sweep through the town and surrounding countryside. They said that the statue - nicknamed Black Aggie - was haunted by the spirit of a mistreated wife who lay beneath her feet. The statue's eyes would glow red at the stroke of midnight, and any living person who returned the statues gaze would instantly be struck blind. Any pregnant woman who passed through her shadow would miscarry. If you sat on her lap at night, the statue would come to life and crush you to death in her dark embrace. If you spoke Black Aggie's name three times at midnight in front of a dark mirror, the evil angel would appear and pull you down to hell. They also said that spirits of the dead would rise from their graves on dark nights to gather around the statue at night.

People began visiting the cemetery just to see the statue, and it was then that the local fraternity decided to make the statue of Grief part of their initiation rites. "Black Aggie" sitting, where candidates for membership had to spend the night crouched beneath the statue with their backs to the grave of General Agnus, became popular.

One dark night, two fraternity members accompanied new hopeful to the cemetery and watched while he took his place underneath the creepy statue. The clouds had obscured the moon that night, and the whole area surrounding the dark statue was filled with a sense of anger and malice. It felt as if a storm were brewing in that part of the cemetery, and to their chagrin, the two fraternity members noticed that gray shadows seemed to be clustering around the body of the frightened fraternity candidate crouching in front of the statue.

What had been a funny initiation rite suddenly took on an air of danger. One of the fraternity brothers stepped forward in alarm to call out to the initiate. As he did, the statue above the boy stirred ominously. The two fraternity brothers froze in shock as the shrouded head turned toward the new candidate. They saw the gleam of glowing red eyes beneath the concealing hood as the statue's arms reached out toward the cowering boy.

With shouts of alarm, the fraternity brothers leapt forward to rescue the new initiate. But it was too late. The initiate gave one horrified yell, and then his body disappeared into the embrace of the dark angel. The fraternity brothers skidded to a halt as the statue thoughtfully rested its glowing eyes upon them. With gasps of terror, the boys fled from the cemetery before the statue could grab them too.

Hearing the screams, a night watchman hurried to the Agnus plot. To his chagrin, he discovered the body of a young man lying at the foot of the statue. The young man had apparently died of fright.

The disruption caused by the statue grew so acute that the Agnus family finally donated it to the Smithsonian museum in Washington D.C.. The grieving angel sat for many years in storage there, never again to plague the citizens visiting the Druid Hill Park Cemetery.

[eileen_regina]

He never paid much attention to the neighbors living in his city block until the day the pretty middle-aged widow moved in two doors down from him. She was plump and dark with sparkling eyes, and she always wore dark gloves on her hands, even indoors.

He went out of his way to meet her, and they often "bumped" into each other in the street and stood talking. One day, as she brushed the hair back from her forehead, he caught a glimpse of gold under the glove on her right arm. When he asked her about it, she grinned coquettishly and told him that she had lost one hand a few years back and now wore a golden hand in its place. In that moment, a terrible lust woke in his heart - not to possess the lady herself, but to possess the solid gold hand that she wore under her long black gloves.

He courted the widow with every stratagem known to him; flowers, trips to the theater, gifts, compliments. And he won her heart. Within a month, they were standing in front of a minister, promising to love one another until death parted them. Within another month, he was a widower and had buried his ailing wife in the local cemetery - without her golden hand. It had been so easy. A slow poison, administered daily to resemble a wasting disease. No one - not his wife, not the family doctor, not their neighbors - suspected murder. And the night after the funeral, he slept with the golden hand under his pillow.

It was a dark night. Clouds covered the moon, and the wind was whistling down the chimney and rattling the shutters of the town house. He was deeply asleep when the door to his room slammed open with a loud bang and a wild wind whipped around the room, scattering papers and books and clothing and table coverings every which way. He sat up, startled by the sudden noise, and his pulse began to pound when he saw a greenish-white light bobbing slowly into the room. Before his eyes, the light slowly grew larger, taking on the shape of his dead wife. She was missing one arm. "Where is my golden hand?" she moaned, her dark eyes blazing with red fire. "Give me my golden hand!"

He tried to speak, but his mouth was so dry with fear that he could only make soft gasping noises. The glowing phantom moved closer to him, her once-lovely face twisted into a hideous green mask. "You stole my life and you stole my hand. Give me back my golden hand!" the dead wife howled. The noise rose higher and higher, and the phantom pulsed with a strident green light that smote his eyes, making them water.

He cowered back against his pillows, and the hard shape of the golden hand pressed against his back. And then he felt the golden hand twitch underneath him as the mangled green phantom that had been his wife swooped down upon him, pressing his face against the pillow in a suffocating green cloud. He tried to scream, but it was cut off suddenly by a terrible pressure against his throat, cutting off his breath. The world went black.

The next morning, when the housemaid came into the room with her master's morning cup of tea, she found him lying dead on the floor, with the golden hand clutched around his throat

[eileen_regina]

Once there was an old woman who went out in the woods to dig up some roots to cook for dinner. She spotted something funny sticking out of the leaves and dug around until she uncovered a great big hairy toe. There was some good meat on that toe which would make a real tasty dinner, so the old woman put it in her basket and took it home.

When she got back to her cottage, the old woman boiled up a kettle-full of hairy toe soup, which she ate for dinner that night. It was the best meal she'd had in weeks! The old woman went to bed that night with a full stomach and a big smile.

Along about midnight, a cold wind started blowing in the tops of the trees around the old woman's house. A large black cloud crept over the moon and from the woods a hollow voice rumbled: "Hairy toe! Hairy toe! I want my hairy toe!" Inside the house, the old woman stirred uneasily in her bed and nervously pulled the covers up over her ears.

From the woods there came a stomp-stomp-stomping noise as the wind whistled and jerked at the treetops. In the clearing at the edge of the forest, a hollow voice said: "Hairy toe! Hairy toe! I want my hairy toe!" Inside the house, the old woman shuddered and turned over in her sleep.

A stomp, stomp, stomping sound came from the garden path outside the cottage. The night creatures shivered in their burrows as a hollow voice howled: "Hairy toe! Hairy toe! I want my hairy toe!" Inside the house, the old woman snapped awake. Her whole body shook with fright as she listened to the angry howling in her garden. Jumping out of bed, she ran to the door and barred it. Once the cottage was secure, she lay back down to sleep.

Suddenly, the front door of the cottage burst open with a bang, snapping the bar in two and sending it flying into the corners of the room. There came the stomp, stomp, stomping noise of giant feet walking up the stairs. Peeping out from under the covers, the old woman saw a massive figure filling her doorway. It said: "Hairy toe! Hairy toe! I want my hairy toe!"

The old woman sat bolt upright in terror and shouted: "I ATE your hairy toe!"

"Yes, you did," the giant figure said very gently as it advanced into the room.

No one living in the region ever saw the old woman again. The only clue to her disappearance was a giant footprint a neighbor found pressed deep into the loose soil of the meadow beside the house. The footprint was missing the left big toe

[eileen_regina]

I saw her out of the corner of my eye while I was studying in a remote corner of the second-level stacks in the library. She was pretty, with reddish hair and pensive, wide eyes in an intelligent face. I straightened up, patted my hair to make sure it was smooth, and took another look. She was gone. I felt my shoulders sag a bit as I turned back to my books. Oh well. There were more important things, like studying hard so that I got into medical school when I graduated next year.

Still, I kept seeing the girl's pretty face whenever I closed my eyes, and I was still thinking about her as I left the library. A few of my friends shouted to me and I walked over to their gathering place.

"Where've you been, Tony?" my friend Jeff called.

"At the library," I said, patting my backpack for emphasis.

"You have been studying?" Jeff asked incredulously.

I grinned. "I've gotta crack down now so I can get into med school," I replied to his jibe. "Can't always be partying with you losers!"

That set them off, as I had intended, and kept the jokes flying until dinnertime.

Although I didn't admit it to myself, I chose the same spot in the stacks for my studies the following afternoon, hoping to see the pretty girl again. I was in luck. After about an hour, she appeared among the shelves, browsing intently. I noticed that she was wearing the same red flowered dress with a buttoned-down white sweater. She must like that outfit. It was time for me to do some browsing too, I thought, straightening my shirt and rising casually. I turned to walk into the shelves and stopped abruptly. She was gone! I was astonished. She must be quick, I thought. It had only taken me a few seconds to rise and turn, but in that short time she had managed to move away without me seeing her do so. I walked casually through the stacks, glancing this way and that, trying to spot her again. No luck. With a sigh, I turned back to my seat and my studies, a frustrated man.

I didn't see the girl again for several weeks. Then one day, as I rushed out of the stacks towards my friend Jeff, who was impatiently beckoning to me to hurry up, I saw her rising from a seat in a far corner. I stopped abruptly and turning, hoping to catch her eye as she moved into the stacks, but she did not turn her head. Ignoring Jeff, who was calling my name impatiently, I backtracked in the hope of at least walking passed her and saying hello. I stopped at the entrance of the stacks where the pretty girl with reddish hair had just walked. There was no one there. I shivered a bit. This was getting spooky. Was she avoiding me? Why? We had never spoken, and I certainly could not be accused of staring at her, since I had only seen her for a total of maybe thirty seconds! Shaking my head at the mystery, I went back over to Jeff and exited the library.

Later that week, I decided to skip the football game to cram for a big exam. Just about everyone els