Halloween storeh's

I had an idea! ^^ We could eithermake up a scareh story of halloween or make up one! ^^ I found this one and wanted ta shaaaaaare!!
Don't turn off the lights...
She commandeered the room in the basement of her dorm as soon as she realized she would have to pull an all-nighter in order to prepare for tomorrow’s final exam. Her roommate, Jenna, liked to get to bed early, so she packed up everything she thought she would need and went downstairs to study . . . and study . . . and study some more.
It was two o’clock, when she realized that she’d left one of the textbooks upstairs on her bed. With a dramatic sigh, she rose, and climbed the stairs slowly to her third-floor dorm room.
The lights were dim in the long hallway, and the old boards creaked under her weary tread. She reached her room and turned the handle as softly as she could, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside, so that the hall lights wouldn’t wake her roommate.
The room was filled with a strange, metallic smell. She frowned a bit, her arms breaking out into chills. There was a strange feeling of malice in the room, as if a malevolent gaze were fixed upon her. It was a mind trick; the all-nighter was catching up with her.
She could hear Jenna breathing on the far side of the room—a heavy sound, almost as if she had been running. Jenna must have picked up a cold during the last tense week before finals.
She crept along the wall until she reached her bed, groping among the covers for the stray history textbook. In the silence, she could hear a steady drip-drip-drip sound. She sighed silently. Facilities would have to come to fix the sink in the bathroom…again.
Her fingers closed on the textbook. She picked it up softly and withdrew from the room as silently as she could.
Relieved to be out of the room, she hurried back downstairs, collapsed into an overstuffed chair and studied until six o’clock. She finally decided that enough was enough. If she slipped upstairs now, she could get a couple hours’ sleep before her nine o’clock exam.
The first of the sun’s rays were beaming through the windows as she slowly slid the door open, hoping not to awaken Jenna. Her nose was met by an earthy, metallic smell a second before her eyes registered the scene in her dorm room. Jenna was spread-eagled on top of her bed against the far wall, her throat cut from ear to ear and her nightdress stained with blood. Two drops of blood fell from the saturated blanket with a drip-drip noise that sounded like a leaky faucet.
Scream after scream poured from her mouth, but she couldn’t stop herself any more than she could cease wringing her hands. All along the hallway, doors slammed and footsteps came running down the passage.
Within moments other students had gathered in her doorway, and one of her friends gripped her arm with a shaking hand and pointed a trembling finger toward the wall. Her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. Then she fainted into her friend’s arms.
On the wall above her bed, written in her roommate’s blood, were the words: “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?”

~By, S.E. Schlosser

CREAPY!!!

OMG, You posted this RIGHT after i read it on another site! o.o
Heres a scary one ^^
Axe Murder Hollow
Susan and Ned were driving through a wooded empty section of highway. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, the sky went dark in the torrential downpour.
“We’d better stop,” said Susan.
Ned nodded his head in agreement. He stepped on the brake, and suddenly the car started to slide on the slick pavement. They plunged off the road and slid to a halt at the bottom of an incline.
Pale and shaking, Ned quickly turned to check if Susan was all right. When she nodded, Ned relaxed and looked through the rain soaked windows.
“I’m going to see how bad it is,” he told Susan, and when out into the storm. She saw his blurry figure in the headlight, walking around the front of the car. A moment later, he jumped in beside her, soaking wet.
“The car’s not badly damaged, but we’re wheel-deep in mud,” he said. “I’m going to have to go for help.”
Susan swallowed nervously. There would be no quick rescue here. He told her to turn off the headlights and lock the doors until he returned.
Axe Murder Hollow. Although Ned hadn’t said the name aloud, they both knew what he had been thinking when he told her to lock the car. This was the place where a man had once taken an axe and hacked his wife to death in a jealous rage over an alleged affair. Supposedly, the axe-wielding spirit of the husband continued to haunt this section of the road.
Outside the car, Susan heard a shriek, a loud thump, and a strange gurgling noise. But she couldn’t see anything in the darkness.
Frightened, she shrank down into her seat. She sat in silence for a while, and then she noticed another sound. Bump. Bump. Bump. It was a soft sound, like something being blown by the wind.
Suddenly, the car was illuminated by a bright light. An official sounding voice told her to get out of the car. Ned must have found a police officer. Susan unlocked the door and stepped out of the car. As her eyes adjusted to the bright light, she saw it.
Hanging by his feet from the tree next to the car was the dead body of Ned. His bloody throat had been cut so deeply that he was nearly decapitated. The wind swung his corpse back and forth so that it thumped against the tree. Bump. Bump. Bump.
Susan screamed and ran toward the voice and the light. As she drew close, she realized the light was not coming from a flashlight. Standing there was the glowing figure of a man with a smile on his face and a large, solid, and definitely real axe in his hands. She backed away from the glowing figure until she bumped into the car.
“Playing around when my back was turned,” the ghost whispered, stroking the sharp blade of the axe with his fingers. “You’ve been very naughty.”
The last thing she saw was the glint of the axe blade in the eerie, incandescent light.

OMG freaky


Heres one:

The blizzard was raging fiercely around them as the brothers stumbled down the long road. they were miles from any farm, and knew they had to seek shelter or freeze to death. So it was with gratitude that the two brothers spotted a saloon and pushed their way through the door.
Every eye in the room turned upon them, as the boys ordered coffee with the last of their money. As the bartender went to fetch the hot drink, most of the regulars returned to their conversations. But one man continued to stare; a massive butcher with a mop of red hair and a long red beard who was the worse for drink.


“You’re looking at me funny,” the butcher slurred, looming over the two boys.


“We weren’t looking at you,” said the older boy. “We were just warming ourselves by the fire.”


“Are you calling me a liar?” he shouted. Around the room crowd grinned; they loved a good fight.


“We didn’t say that,” said the older boy quickly, waving his hands and accidentally striking the butcher on the arm. That did it. The butcher grabbed the boy by the collar. “No one hits me and gets away with it,” he roared and threw the boy headfirst into the huge fire raging in the hearth.
There was a moment of stunned silence in the saloon, and then the elder boy screamed in agony as the flames engulfed him from head to toe. The younger lad shouted in terror. The older boy stumbled out of the fireplace, as the little brother tried to beat out the fire with his small hands.
The butcher loomed above them, grinning sadistically as the flaming boy lost consciousness, his screams dying away.


“Your turn,” the butcher said to his brother. The younger boy gasped in fear and fled for his life out into the raging snow. The boy’s little frozen body was not found until the spring.


One evening, a decade after the death of the two young boys, a burly man with a long red beard came strolling down the road one taken by the brothers. The butcher had heard rumors of a ghost but had discarded them as so much poppycock and tavern talk.


As he meandered down the road, he became aware that a silence had fallen. In the odd silence, he heard the footsteps of a large animal. They walked when he walked and stopped when he stopped. Pulse pounding madly, the butcher turned. Behind him, large as an ox, stood a black dog with blazing blue eyes and sharp teeth. The butcher had seen those blue eyes once before, gazing at him from the face of a young boy trying to save his burning brother.


The black dog growled softly and took a step forward. The butcher whirled around to flee and found himself face to face with tall figure covered from head to toe in flames. The burning boy reached out toward the butcher with hands withered and blackened by fire. The butcher gave a terrified scream and fell, blood gushing from eyes and nose. He was dead before he hit the ground.


To this day, the black dog and the flaming figure still appeared in that vicinity to harass travelers and speed them on their way.

Creepy o.o

An old woman

A young woman returns to her car from a day's shopping. She had parked her car in the town's multi-storey car park.

As she approaches the car she notices someone sitting in the back seat. She cautiously checks the registration plate to see if it is indeed her car, as it is a popular model and colour. The car is indeed hers, and as she gets closer she sees that it's an old woman sitting in the back seat.

She asks the woman how and why she is sitting in her car.

The old woman replies that she had been shopping with her son and family but felt unwell and returned to the car to rest. She obviously had mistaken the young woman's car for her son's, as it was the same model and colour. The old woman then asks to be driven to a hospital, as she is still feeling unwell. The young woman agrees.

As she gets into the driver's seat something makes her very nervous about the stiuation and she asks the old woman if she is feeling well enough to direct her as she reverses the car out of the parking place. The old woman agrees, gets out of the car and proceeds to direct the reversing manoeuvre.

As soon as the young woman has the car out of the parking space she speeds out of the car park, leaving the old woman stranded. She then drives straight to the nearest police station and reports the incident.

A police officer then searched the car and found an axe concealed under the driver's seat.

Oh Crip!


A girl had a dog. The dog was very loyal and was able to warn her if there was danger. One lick meant mildly
dangerous. Two meant really bad. Three meant very, very bad. One night the girl was asleep and felt one lick.
She woke up and heard a dripping noise. She got up and looked around for it, not feeling real concern. Then
she went back to bed. Later she the felt two licks. She woke up and still heard the sound. She went to the
attick to look. There was nothing there. The girl was getting worried. She went back to be. She felt three
licks later and got out of bed again, feeling really scared. She went to the bathroom. The dripping noise was
coming from the shower. (I can remember this part very well, but it went something like: ) The shower head
had the dogs head on it and there was a knife in a cut off hand in on the floor of the shower.

Reflection

One cold winter night, sixteen year old Kelly Sanders was home alone, as her parents had gone out to a dinner party at a friend's house. It had been snowing all afternoon, but had just recently stopped. After studying for a while, she decides to relax a little- after all, she finally had the house to herself. She makes some popcorn, gets a nice warm, fuzzy blanket, and snuggles under it to watch one of her favorite movies. In their lounge room, the television is positioned a few feet in front of the glass sliding door that leads to the patio and backyard. By midnight, Kelly's parents are still not home, and she begins to feel uneasy, but refuses to call them, for risk of sounding like she couldn't take care of herself. Suddenly, her eye catches a glint of light from behind the TV, and right there, just outside the glass door, was a crazy-eyed man, grinning maliciously at her, and holding a long, narrow blade in his left hand. Terrified, the girl panics, pulls the blanket up over her head and grabs the cordless phone by her side. Kelly calls the police, and as luck would have it, there was a patrol car less than a block from her house. In a matter of seconds, two officers are on the scene and Kelly tells them about the armed man staring through the glass. The first officer opens the sliding door and looks around the area. After a few moments, she turns and explains to Kelly that there couldn't have been anyone standing out there, as there would have been footprints in the snow. The second officertells her that she is probably just tired and her imagination was playing tricks on her. He beckoned at the TV where the horror movie she had been watching was still playing. "Stuff like that didn't help matters, either,'' he said smiling. Kelly smiled too, more at her own immaturity than the officer's remark, still a little shaken. As the police are about to leave, the male officer stops and looks behind the sofa that Kelly had been sitting on. His jaw drops and eyes widen in shock. Kelly and the other officer notice his reaction and follow his gaze; they both gasp. There were wet footprints and a discarded knife on the carpet behind the couch. Kelly hadn't seen the man outside he door; she'd seen his reflection when he was standing behind her.

@Dew: i heard that story before. and actualy my sister (not rose) said that the dog was hanging by the tail in the shower,dead and then some guy appered and said that people can lick other peoples hands too and he was holding a knife.

New one....


Arabella

A little girl, named Penny Warren, was given a small doll by her parents. The doll was a gift from an ancient great aunt who had now passed on. Penny was instantly unnnerved by the doll, which had nasty little black eyes that seemed to follow her around the room and a sinister grin on her face. Nevertheless, Penny had to accept the doll, as she was well brought up and didn't want to upset her parents by refusing to take it. Her parents told her that the doll's name was Arabella, which made Penny even more afraid of it; it seemed to make it more human. Even so, it was just a doll, barely reaching above her knee, so to put her mind at rest, she hid Arabella into the little cupboard under the stairs, under some boxes where her parents wouldn't see her. It wasn't until a few nights later, when Penny was lying in bed, that she heard a noise...a shuffling sound that went on for about five minutes. Then, a brief dragging noise and finally, a scuttling like light footsteps running very fast. Penny was paralyzed with fear, her knuckles turning white from clutching her blanket. Then, she heard a voice - soft and eerily childlike - quiet enough not to wake her parents. Penny always slept with the door open and the lamp in the hall on, as she was still a little scared of the dark. Therefore, she could hear more through her open door. Penny heard the voice say "Penny, I'm on the first step"...And then a loud scrabbling again, as whatever was speakingapparently turned tail and returned to wherever it had come from. The little girl didn't sleep a wink that night, but laid in fear until the break of dawn when her mother got her up for school and when she tried to explain what had happened, her parents passed it off as "just a dream". The next night, Penny fought against sleep, but eventually drifted off, only to be woken again by the sinister voice: "Penny, I'm on the fifth step" Penny was crying by now, and again, she didn't sleep that night. The next night, Penny decided to shut her bedroom door and reluctantly slept without the light on. Just as she was about to doze, Penny heard the noise, and then the voice: "Penny, I'm on the top step..." Penny knew that her door was closed, but she was still terribly afraid. Her heart pounding, she slowly go up to investigate; she screamed. Penny'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 hall light and had fallen down the stairs, breaking her neck. Arabella, the favorite family doll, was found beside her body - smiling.

Ok Thx

OMG!! that ish creapy.

A young couple just returned from their vacation in California and now, along with their three-year-old daughter, were returning to their house in Oregon. Determined to make it up there in two days, the couple alternated on the driving every 6 hours until they reached home. At this point on the first day of their trip home it was the third shift, at 11:00 that night, and the husband, Paul, was driving. Paul’s eyes were really weary; he could barely keep his eyes on the road. He turned to his wife, Morgan. She was fast asleep against the door of the old station wagon. He looked in the review mirror at young Franchesca in her car seat. She looked so angelic sleeping there that, despite the fact Paul needed the company, he decided against waking up either of them.

Paul continued driving along the deserted road, when suddenly, his high beams picked up a man in a trench coat. As Paul approached the man, he noticed his thumb was extended and he had a small carpetbag off to his left. As Paul continued driving, closer and closer to the hitchhiker, his mind raced on whether or not he should pick him up. He really needed the company, and there was no one else on the road. The poor guy wouldn’t get picked up for hours. Then again, Morgan would really disapprove. She had a thing for never picking up hitchhikers, since the discussion had risen before in their 6-year relationship. Also, what type of person would try to hitchhike in the middle of the night like this? He had to have been some sort of lunatic. Paul quickly passed the guy, in a way relived that he wouldn’t have to pick up that psycho. Not to mention, the guy looked somewhat less than sane. He had this crazy glare on his face, which wasn’t exactly comforting.

As Paul was going on through the last 40 minutes of his shift, about 20 minutes after the hitchhiker experience. Paul noticed some steam coming out of the hood of the car. “Oh Great!” Paul said as he pulled the car off to the side of the road. He quickly hopped out and popped the hood to the station wagon. He looked around at the engine and noticed that the radiator hose had burst and water was spraying everyone. “How could this have happened?” Paul said aloud. “I just got the car back from the shop.” As soon as those words escaped his mouth Paul noticed a man in a trenchcoat about 200 yards away. “That cant be the hitchhiker!” Paul exclaimed. “Its humanly impossible to go 30 miles in 20 minutes without some sort of vehicle. He’s just walking too. How could he…” Paul didn’t have time to think of this, he had to fix that hose and fast, that’s all he knew. Paul raced to the trunk searching for the duct tape. He scurried about looking for it, where could it have been? He grabbed a rubber box and found the duct tape inside. As he ran back to the front of the car, he looked back and saw that the hitchhiker was only about 75 yards away know. How could he go that fast in 30 seconds? Paul didn’t know who the hitchhiker was or what the hitchhiker was, but he had to improvise the radiator hose fast, Before that “thing” got to the car. Paul quickly found the hose and taped it up as fast as he could and jumped back into the car. As he found his keys, he tried starting up the car, but it wouldn’t start. He tried again, but still it wouldn’t start. He looked behind him and saw the hitchhiker was right next to the car, making a grab for the door as Paul started up the car and sped off, leaving the hitchhiker in the dust. Paul gave a sigh of relief, if only Morgan and Franchesca knew how close they were to possible murder. He decided against telling them when it was time for Morgan to drive. He turned to the sleeping passenger, instead to see the grinning face of the hitchhiker, with a long bloody knife in his hand.

He never paid much attention to the neighbors living on 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.

It was a particularly peaceful day in February. Peculiarly warm for the time of year. The sun was out and birds were singing. It was a very splendid afternoon indeed. So warm and calm that I decided to take advantage of this tranquillity. I would take a walk down to the edge of the Forrest, right where the stream began. I brought along with me a book of poetry, reading poetry on days like these always cheers me up and takes my mind off everything that troubles me. I walked down the long dirt road of which I lived on. It was so far away from everything. Every so often some children would stop at the nearby park, they were the only exception to my loneliness. As a passed by the park some children at the top of a slide waved to me. I waved back and smiled. I wished so bad I could have some real friends. Everyone refused to talk to me since I gave the complete impression of living that life of a hermit. It wasn’t true, I tried to fit in socially so hard. Of course I was also terribly shy. I always expected people to accept me as a child. It hasn’t changed; I am still dependent of that happening that I never made an attempt to fit it. Well unfortunately its too late now, there is nothing I can do about it.

As I approached the steam I examined the area for a place to sit. My eyes came across a Large Oak Tree that gave off rather an unpleasant tactility. I shifted my eyes from the area and continued my search. I saw a willow tree about 10 yards away that looked like it may provide shade from the sun. No one would be able to see me there; I didn’t want anyone to see me. Well it wouldn’t make much difference anyway since no one came by here. No one seemed to like it; of course I wouldn’t know anything about that since I was never informed of the gossip in this small town. I settled myself under the shade of the willow and began reading my book. I concentrated on the words real hard but every 10 seconds or so I found my eyes wandering towards the Oak. There was certainly something unusual about it, I just couldn’t figure out what. I turned back to my book but around 3 minutes later I heard a sound. It was as if someone where crying for Help. It sounded like a depressed cry then a scream. The scream was absolutely ear piercing, Like someone was getting murdered. I tried to ignore this thought but it kept coming back to me. All of a sudden the depressed cry for help came back. “Help me!” it clearly cried. I got up quickly and ran over to the oak tree. Nobody was there. I sat down against it and said to myself that if I wanted my mind to stop implying the slight hint of illusion I would over come it by sitting at the trunk of the Large Oak Tree.

I calmness surged through me, it had worked. No more eerie voicing crying for help. Of course by that time my mind was racing and I couldn’t read my book so I decided to go home. I don’t know what came over me but about halfway home I discovered that I had forgotten my book. I couldn’t leave it behind. It had been a gift from my deceased mother so I had to go back. As I approached my book, I noticed that a page had been ripped out. A poem about Meadows, on it in blood red letters said, “Beware the Large Oak Tree.” I looked up at the large tree, I heard rustling at the top. Then, suddenly a large ax came shooting down directly towards my face. I dodged out of the way just in time. For the blood covered ax nearly killed me. I didn’t have time to examine the tree any longer. I ran home quick as a bullet, never turning back.

When I got home I discovered that my radio was turned on. That was quite odd since I never listened to the radio, at least recently. I extended my hand to turn it off when I heard a news bulletin interrupt the song. “A murder has been discovered yesterday afternoon by the Parkview Brook,” the announcer said. “The body was found just recently by an Oak Tree in the surrounding area. No reports of evidence leading toward the murderer have been revealed. The body of the murdered has not been revealed either. At this time you should lock your doors and windows because the murderer is still at large and everyone should take the necessary precautions. Now back to your regular programming.

At this I quickly latched all my doors and windows averting all my attention to the radio in case of a further bulletin. Did the murderer write in blood all over the page of my book? I didn’t have time to ponder this question anymore since suddenly a shadow immerged from the closet. A gleaming knife in his hand. He spoke, “Beware of the Large Oak Tree.”