What Is The Scariest Ghost Story You Ever Heard? | Scary Reddit Story

What Is The Scariest Ghost Story You Ever Heard? | Scary Reddit Story

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
What is the scariest ghost storyyou ever heard?
Story one. I was in second grade and my
sister was in 4th grade. My parents had just bought a
house on a 160 acre farm very far out of town.
The farm had a barn, 2 grain bins, a feed room, and a 40 by
20 foot shop. A few weeks after moving in,
while my parents were busy cleaning and repairing the

(00:20):
house, which needed quite a bit of work, my sister and I were
playing outside the shop. There was a very large pond
nearby, and on one side of it began a tree line that marked
the start of the forest, which stretched for several 100 acres,
though not all of it belonged tous.
My sister and I were playing when we heard a noise coming
from the woods. It wasn't a screaming cry for
help, but more of an animal hoot.

(00:41):
Definitely not a bird. Being kids, we hooted back at
it. The only sound I can compare it
to is the noise a monkey makes, the kind of shriek A distressed
monkey might let out. We kept calling out, hoping to
provoke it, and every so often we heard a reply, but then it
stopped. The whole ordeal lasted maybe 2
minutes. This might not sound profound,
but this was in central Oklahoma.

(01:02):
It was a few months after we hadsettled into the house.
I was lying on the floor in my underwear, eating a bowl of
cereal. My mom was lying nearby watching
TV. My sister ran in from the other
living room and asked if I had just been outside.
I said no, I've been inside the whole time.
My mom confirmed this, looking concerned, and asked why my
sister refused to believe us. She explained that she had been

(01:22):
doing homework in the other living room, looked up, and saw
a kid in his underwear run past the big sliding glass door that
led to our backyard. The backyard was always
illuminated at night by a light on top of an electrical pole
that gave off an eerie green glow.
We reassured her that I'd been inside the whole time, but she
was adamant about what she saw. She wasn't in the habit of
lying. Before we continue, do us a

(01:44):
quick favor, smash that like button and subscribe to support
our channel. For several years, nothing else
noteworthy happened. It was a beautiful piece of
property, but all of us noticed it had a slightly uneasy
atmosphere. By the time I was a freshman in
high school, I was riding my horse along the border of the
forest I'd mentioned earlier. Earlier.
I rode the length of it, made a big circle, and prepared to do
it again because it was such an enjoyable ride.

(02:05):
On the second pass, though, something in the woods spooked
my horse and it threw me. My saddle wasn't cinched
correctly, and I was tossed awkwardly.
Honestly, it happened too quickly to react.
I broke both my arms. It was about three months after
my accident and my casts were finally off.
We had started putting a new roof on the House.
This is the only thing I can think of that might have been
the catalyst for the next few occurrences.

(02:27):
I want to be very clear, I am the type of person who truly
believes there is an explanationfor everything.
I am not superstitious and I don't believe in God or ghosts,
but I cannot explain the following events.
We began the roofing process. It took several weeks since we
did it in sections. Money was tight, my parents
worked constantly, and we decided to handle it ourselves.

(02:47):
In one of the living rooms, the same one where I'd been lying on
the floor eating cereal back in second grade, there was a
chandelier. It was a gaudy, hideous thing
covered with hundreds of fake crystals.
The crystals hung on the chandelier by hooks similar to
the kind used for Christmas ornaments, only small enough to
fit through tiny holes. My sister and I were usually the
last to leave the house in the mornings.

(03:07):
We always left for school at thesame time, and we're the first
to arrive home in the afternoon.We would come back to find a
handful of the chandeliers crystals lying on the floor.
It made no sense. My mother was unsettled by it
and my father eventually became angry.
At first he thought it was a joke.
We left the crystals on the floor to show him, and our
seriousness finally convinced him we weren't playing a prank.

(03:27):
There was no explanation I couldthink of that accounted for the
crystals falling. It wasn't us being on the roof
banging around. Nobody was home during the day
to work on it, and the crystals continued to fall for a while
even after the roof was completed.
There was no way for the crystals to lift their wire
hooks through the holes and fall, even if we had been
jumping up and down on the roof.It took concentration just to
fit the hooks back into the holes.

(03:49):
Eventually it stopped, but therewas never an explanation.
Things started to get strange. By this time, my parents were
divorced and my sister was away at college.
My mom had moved into town whilemy dad stayed at the farm.
I split my time between them, spending every other night at my
mom's. My sister's old room remained
exactly as she had left it when she went off to college.

(04:09):
It stayed unused, the door kept shut.
One night I was alone at my daddy's house.
He was working a night shift andwouldn't be home until after
midnight. I was in the living room, the
same one with the chandelier I've been describing, sitting in
a chair and watching TV. Suddenly, I heard a loud bang.
It came from my sister's room. I froze.
My entire body locked up. I couldn't make myself move.

(04:29):
I sat there and listened, but there was nothing.
Eventually I forced myself to get up and grabbed a walking
staff I had carved as a birthdaypresent for my dad.
He kept it as a decoration in the living room.
Clutching the staff, I searched the back of the house, first
checking all the doors and windows, then moved slowly
toward the bedrooms. I checked my my dad's room, then
my own. After making sure no one had

(04:50):
broken in, I stood outside my sister's door, listening.
Eventually, I summoned the courage to twist the door knob
just enough to open it. I kicked the door lightly and
flipped on the lights. A speaker had fallen off my
sister's desk, dangling by the red and black copper wires.
It was the left speaker of a nice stereo.
I picked it up to put it back onthe desk, and that's when I

(05:10):
noticed the dust. The room had been unused for so
long that a thick layer had settled everywhere, leaving a
clean square where the speaker had been sitting.
It hadn't been in an unstable position.
It shouldn't have fallen on its own.
Then I noticed something even stranger, a path traced through
the dust by the four rubber padson the bottom of the speaker.
The speaker had clearly been pushed.
I sent my dad a text explaining what had happened, then left the

(05:32):
house. This is the scariest part of my
story. I have no explanation for what
happened and I pride myself on being a very rational person.
Once again I was alone in the house.
Dad was working a night shift and mom was out of town.
It was around 10 at night and I was in the same living room with
the chandelier watching TVI got up to grab a snack, stepping
through the doorway into the foyer.

(05:53):
I turned the corner to the right, heading toward the
kitchen. As I looked up, I froze.
Straight ahead of me, staring through the window, was a kid
with no shirt on. This wasn't a neighbor kid.
There were no neighbors for miles.
We were in the middle of nowhere.
For a few seconds I couldn't move, my whole body locked in
place. Then, almost in self-defense, I
let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, a wave of

(06:15):
relief washing over me. It had to be my reflection.
I stood there, frozen, still staring at the window when my
reflection suddenly took off running.
In the direction it ran was the sliding glass door, the only
place it could have gone. The kid should have been plainly
visible, but no one appeared. The relief I had felt only
seconds earlier evaporated, replaced by the worst feeling

(06:36):
I've ever experienced. My heart dropped, my face went
hot, my mind went blank. I couldn't think, I couldn't
move. It was as if my body had gone
into shock. I stood there, breathing hard,
probably hyperventilating, untilsuddenly the paralysis broke.
I bolted for my keys, even though going outside meant
running straight into whatever that thing was.
There was no way I could I wouldstay in the house.

(06:57):
I sprinted to my truck, jumped inside and peeled out of the
driveway. As I neared the end of the long
straight stretch of gravel, I forced myself to look into the
rear view mirror. I half expected to see the kid
standing under the eerie green glow of the electrical poles
light, but the yard was empty. Story 2.
Although I'm sure many won't believe me, this is a true story
that I personally experienced. Names have been changed except

(07:20):
1. Willis, Fall 2003, my sophomore
year of high school. I had moved to town just a year
earlier, and after some adjustments, I had made a bunch
of really good friends. Unlike the stereotype, high
school was made-up of very loosecliques that mixed freely.
This led to rather large partiesand events whenever word got
out. The town itself sits on the edge
of a major city, a good sized suburb, but just a few miles out

(07:43):
you immediately hit farmland. Perhaps this is what fostered
the school's friendliness. But anyway, within my closer
group of friends, Wicca was becoming a big thing.
Several of them had become solo practitioners, while others were
picking up books to see what allthe fuss was about.
I'll admit, the books were interesting reads, but I didn't
see any truth in them. They sounded more like wishful

(08:03):
thinking, and I was going through a very hardcore atheist
phase. Still, it was all fascinating.
Eventually, we formed a philosophical club that met
after school to share our various beliefs.
It started with five people, butwithin a month we were up to
around 15 with a few people coming and going.
At the core of the club was a guy named Eric.
He was a devout Wiccan and considered the expert on the

(08:24):
religion, although other membersoften disagreed.
Erics original goal was to find more people to form a small
coven with him as the leader. About eight of us decided to
give his idea a try, some out ofbelief, others out of curiosity.
The first spell we tried was oneto change the weather and bring
on snow. Its success was very debatable
considering it was fall in the Northeast United States and the

(08:45):
weather was always unpredictable.
So we moved on to more specific spells for things like luck or
protection. Everyone in the group was a
strong believer in the threefoldlaw.
Soon other people from the club started hearing about our
experiments and rituals and joined in as well.
Eric lived out in the country part of town near a large forest
which quickly became our base ofoperations.

(09:05):
It was out of the way, Criss crossed with creeks and a
railway ran right through the middle of it.
About once every two weeks we would walk down the railway at
night and try a different spell in the woods.
At first nothing really happened.
The more devoted Wiccans in the group had different theories as
to why. Eventually it was agreed that
the problem was the presence of non believers in the rituals,
namely me, but I convinced them to let me keep coming anyway.

(09:27):
It was a Friday around mid-october.
Six or seven of us went out intothe woods late at night as
usual. We had a new guy with us, a
curious fellow named Jared who was a rather large individual
and genuinely nice. The night was chilly with a good
amount of moonlight filtering through the trees.
Everyone was talking about one thing or another.
I remember being worried about our proximity to the train

(09:47):
tracks and the possibility of running into a knife wielding
hobo, so I told the others I would take guard duty and leave
them alone to do their spellcrafting.
I don't really know what happened during the ritual.
I heard raised voices and sneaked a few glances, seeing
them all standing in a circle chanting.
About an hour later they finished up and we all made our
way home. Jared, however, was acting
rather strange and he and Eric lagged behind talking about

(10:10):
something. For the rest of the night he was
unusually quiet. Monday came around.
We all met up in the morning after getting off the buses.
Jared showed up looking completely disheveled.
His hair was greasy, his eyes were baggy, and he couldn't seem
to keep his thoughts together. Concerned, we all bombarded him
with questions. His story was chilling.
Something had followed him home from the woods.
He said he first saw it during the ritual, flying just above

(10:33):
the tree line in circles. It was long and black, a
humanoid figure with a cloak or Cape.
According to him, it stared at him during the ritual and then
followed him back home, where itbegan orbiting his house.
He couldn't sleep, and even Daybreak didn't banish it.
It stayed in the shadows, watching him all day.
When Saturday night rolled around, he tried to get some
sleep at last. By this point, Jared was crying,

(10:54):
but he kept going. He said that in the night the
thing came into his room and stood over his bed.
Finally, he confronted it, screaming at it to go away.
It touched his forehead with itsfinger and laughed.
Jared's story soon degraded intofrantic sobs.
He called it the demon and claimed it was still haunting
him even now, flying above our school, waiting.
A majority of the Wiccans boltedoutside, intent on confronting

(11:16):
this creature. Those who remained behind began
discussing protection spells or pulling grimoires from their
packs. The rest of us comforted Jared
with hugs and tissues, forming acircle around him before things
escalated further. Classes were about to start, so
our gathering was forced to break up, though not before
assigning people to watch over Jared throughout the day.
After school, the Wiccans held an emergency coven meeting where

(11:37):
battle plans were drawn up, grimoires were open, bold claims
were made, and gifts of protection were showered upon
Jared. Confusion was thick in the air.
You could almost smell fear on some people while others
radiated pure resolve. I stayed quiet, my smug atheist
self, because my thoughts on thematter were less than
sympathetic. My opinion at the time was
simple. Jared, struggling with self

(11:57):
esteem issues because of his weight, was having a mental
breakdown. Wanting attention, he had
crafted a story to put himself in the spotlight.
This was high school after all. No other member had seen the
demon or felt it. There had already been numerous
little ghost stories shared at club meetings, and those stories
always made everyone stop and listen.
Some even became the foundation for relationships.

(12:17):
Still, I was curious. This was either a confrontation
with the unknown or a deep psychological observation.
Either way, we needed to be there for Jared.
We all cared. Aside from the protection tokens
and spells everyone was preparing, Another solution was
proposed. And Ouija board Eric had
recently crafted one himself, burning its lettering into a
large piece of wood. It was rather nicely made, I

(12:38):
must admit. Our group was much smaller this
time. The only constants were Eric and
me. We were joined by two others,
Rachelle and Thomas. Eric explained how the board
used our life force to power contact with the other side.
Thomas and I shared similar views, that it was a
psychological trick, herd mentality.
Rochelle, I don't know, she wasn't the sort to be easily
roped into beliefs. We all settled in and began.

(13:01):
At first we were talking to the stereotypical spirits, so
forgettable I can't even remember them.
After over an hour, the pointer started going crazy fast,
zipping around the board with anodd twirling motion right before
it landed on a letter. What it spelled out was vulgar
and explicit. I'm going to off you.
You will bleed freakers. It also seemed unusually
interested in Rochelle, which wefound distinctly odd.

(13:23):
When is her birthday? It asked.
She said it out loud and we all murmured.
I will essay her first. We all laughed.
Stupid wuss. Smash her wuss.
They came one right after the other.
It wouldn't stop. Eric declared this bad mojo and
said we should banish the spiritand move on.
That prompted a no. The other three of us were
hooked. We asked for a name.

(13:44):
No. We asked why it wanted to off
Rochelle or Smasher. Finally, Eric had had enough and
tried to dismiss it. No Thomas pushed for a name and
the pointer very slowly spelled Willis.
Then the pointer slid off the board.
We all laughed, even Eric, who suspected someone was
fabricating a good story. No, I wasn't, I'd given it a

(14:05):
solid try, even though I didn't believe it.
We tried a few more times with nothing interesting, then called
it a night. Winter slash spring, 2004 to
2005. The coven had devolved into
smaller groups by then, though everyone stayed in regular
contact in some form. Most of us still ate lunch
together, at least. The Philosophical Club, however,
fell into ruin. I had a mental breakdown as more

(14:26):
and more people began experiencing strange happenings.
It ended in a rant you might expect to find on the Reddit
community for atheism. Having been observing all this
time, the amount of ammunition Ihad was staggering.
I know I shattered some people'sfaith that day, but maybe I did
some good too. At some point, Jared started
acting normal again. I don't know the circumstances,
but he found something that gavehim peace.

(14:48):
I asked, but the topic seemed tovisibly upset him.
Or perhaps my speech had hit tooclose to home.
Many of us began directing our energy in a more classic ghost
hunting direction, sneaking intolocal abandoned buildings with
cameras, creeping through graveyards, and looking up
places online we could drive to on weekends.
It was a lot of fun. I became the groups debunker
though our more spiritual members gave me a nickname.

(15:10):
Null Story 3A Little back story Where I used to live in
Pennsylvania, there was a building just down the hill from
our house. We lived on a hill and about 400
yards from the bottom of the first slope there was a Cliff
that led down to the river. The building had been a butcher
shop for decades. The owner at the time was the
grandson of the original owner. He had moved the shop across

(15:31):
town about two decades before I was born, around 1967.
For roughly 10 years after that,the building was used as a
mechanics shop, taking advantageof its unique split level
layout. Vehicles could be pulled in from
the upper street and serviced from the lower level.
In the late 70's the mechanic moved to a neighboring town and
the shop near us was shut down. The building sat unattended for

(15:52):
several years until the mid 80s when a squatter moved in.
He was a homeless man who did odd jobs for local residents.
The town itself was fairly concentrated with about 5000
people in a small area. Once you left town, you truly
left civilization behind. Everyone called him Ed.
He had apparently done work for the mechanic's shop and was a
World War 2 veteran who had returned home mentally scarred

(16:12):
from the war. In the early 90s, a group of
teenagers began harassing Ed. They would throw garbage at him,
taunt him, and occasionally chase him.
It never went much further untilone day when they cornered him
on the upper level of the old shop.
One of the teens began hitting him with an old broomstick.
Ed was pushing 70 at the time and could do little to defend
himself. A neighbor witnessed the attack

(16:33):
and called the police before thebeating could escalate further.
When the officers arrived, they scared the teenagers away,
arrested one for possession, andstarted looking for Ed to ensure
he was all right. They never found him.
For a while, everyone assumed hehad simply run off.
That assumption changed when a resident of one of the buildings
near the old shop reported a horrible smell seeping from the
lower level where the old oil pit of the shop was located.

(16:57):
There, in the mixture of blood and dirt, was Ed.
Most of the oil had seeped out. I was told the body was in a
horrible state of decay, having been dead for about a month, but
it was clear he had sustained A tremendous beating.
No autopsy was performed, and people began reaching out to
Ed's family to inform them of his death.
He could locate only a woman in her early 90s who supposedly had

(17:17):
some relation to him. She identified Ed as her younger
cousin but knew very little about him and had only met him
once or twice. Ed was buried and the teenagers
were tried for various crimes ranging from accidental death to
the possession charges mentionedearlier.
Oddly, most of them were acquitted.
Only the possession charge stuck, due in part to the
absence of an autopsy and the fact that the teens were all

(17:38):
minors aged 13 to 15. A procedural mistake also led to
one of the teens being beaten severely by an adult who may or
may not have been a police officer at the time.
This resulted in the dismissal of all charges except
possession. Time passed and the incident was
largely forgotten. In the early 2000's, the butcher
finally passed away. By then he had become a fairly

(17:58):
prominent man in town, continuing a family legacy that
had lasted for decades. His son, who was not carrying on
the business, decided to hold a memorial for his father in the
old shop. He and a few friends went to
clean up the old shop. In preparation for the memorial.
They had to install a new front door on the upper level, as the
old one had been completely demolished from years of
neglect. During this process, they

(18:20):
unearthed an old metal containerthat had been cemented directly
into the wall. Inside the container were
photographs of his father and grandfather, the second
generation butcher, dating back to the 1950s when they had
worked together. The son, who would have been a
fourth generation butcher had hecontinued the family trade,
decided these photos would be perfect for the memorial.
He had a few enlarged to poster size and displayed them at the

(18:42):
event. Also in the box was a diary that
had remained untouched for more than 40 years.
On the day of the memorial, people began noticing another
man appearing in several of the photographs.
It was Ed. He had worked for the Second
generation Butcher for about a decade right after World War 2
and had been present when the Third generation Butcher took
over the shop. As the son read his father's

(19:02):
diary, he discovered that the relationship between the third
Generation Butcher and Ed had turned bitter by the mid 60s
after his grandfather retired. They had gotten into several
fights over the years, escalating to serious animosity.
The last entry in the diary concerned the move across town.
The third generation Butcher hadwritten I can't take it anymore,

(19:22):
we have to leave this puzzled the sun prompting him to
backtrack and piece together what had happened.
Apparently the Butcher had gotten into a physical
altercation with Ed that resulted in Ed being struck in
the back of the head with a cleaver.
The diary continued. I can tell no one this as it
will ruin my entire family, but I've buried him in the blood
pit. The shop will mask the smell and

(19:43):
I don't think anyone will miss him.
May God have mercy see on my soul.
When the auto shop took over, they had filled the pit with oil
and other debris to mask the smell of animal blood and parts.
The pit was about 6 feet deep. Over time, the oil seeped into
the surrounding soil, weakening its integrity and causing part
of the wall to collapse, revealing the horribly decayed
corpse of Ed. The son decided to consult the

(20:06):
medical examiner who had originally examined Ed's body
and began the process to have him exhumed.
He wanted to either confirm the Diaries claim or clear his
father's name. By then, the cousin had passed
away and no one opposed the exhumation, so the coffin was
brought up. The examiner examined the corpse
once more. Sure enough, he found that Ed
had died primarily from sharp force trauma rather than blunt

(20:27):
trauma. He also noticed something
unusual about the remaining tissue.
It was drenched in oil and far better preserved than it should
have been. The debris the auto shop had
dumped on top of Ed had inadvertently delayed the
natural decay that should have occurred.
The teens had surely been beating someone that day.
The police began searching for them to question them.
The story soon took a grotesque turn.

(20:48):
According to the police report, the teens claimed that an
elderly man had been following them and had chased them into
the old shop. They insisted they were only
defending themselves and ran away at the first chance they
got. There were four teens mentioned
in the report. All were now dead.
Each had taken their own life ina different way.
One had jumped into the river atthe nearby dam and drowned, One
had hanged herself, one had sat in a running car inside the

(21:10):
garage, and the last had slit his wrists.
They all had one thing in common, however.
Each had complained for years after the beating incident that
someone was following them. At times they mentioned seeing
the same car tailing them home from work or school, day after
day, week after week. Sometimes it was a stranger at
the mall, other times a shadowy figure outside their house.

(21:31):
Of the four, only one left any kind of message after making his
own life. Scrawled in blood on the
bathroom wall beside his body were the sloppy yet clearly
legible words. Thank you, Ed.
It was later determined that this individual likely could not
have written the message himself.
The severe blood loss combined with the injuries to his arms
would have rendered them almost completely useless.

(21:52):
Story 4. Back when I was around 10 or 12
years old, I can't quite remember exactly, my mother won
some kind of lucky draw and we got access to a bungalow by the
beach for a short getaway. Since the place was massive, we
invited some relatives to join us too.
Being young, I was thrilled. I couldn't wait to hang out with
my cousins, have barbecues, messaround, and most importantly,

(22:12):
not be at home. I don't know why, but even
though the bungalow was technically just another house
we'd be staying in for a week, the fact that it wasn't mine
somehow made it feel special. When we arrived in checked in,
the caretaker was there to hand over the keys and show us
around. He led us through the rooms,
pointed out the bathrooms, and explained the basics.
The first thing I noticed when Istepped inside was how huge the
place was. It had two stories and about

(22:34):
7:00 rooms, not counting the living room and kitchen.
The second thing I noticed was that the floor was dusty.
The kind of dusty where you don't really see the dirt, but
you can definitely feel it on your feet.
So I decided to pick my own bedroom and ran up the stairs
toward a room at the far end of the hallway.
With my small, scrawny fingers, I grabbed the door knob and
tried twisting it, but the door wouldn't open.

(22:55):
Being as young as I was, I started slamming the door in
frustration until the caretaker came up and told me to stop.
He muttered something, either too quietly for me to hear or in
words I didn't understand back then.
My dad came over and asked him to unlock the door, but the
caretaker refused. I couldn't make sense of what he
said, but my dad later told me it was just a storeroom.
I quickly forgot, thought about it, and chose the room directly

(23:16):
opposite instead, literally right across from it, maybe 10
steps away at most. A while later, my relatives
started arriving. Cousins, aunts, uncles, the
whole noisy crowd. They brought food for a potluck
and filled the place with laughter and chatter.
I LED my cousins upstairs to show them my room.
It had a balcony, which felt like a big deal to me,
especially since I didn't have one at home.

(23:37):
Sharing my room that night were two of my cousins who were
staying over 1 was a year older than me and the other was about
five years older. Both of them completely towered
over me. I was short and skinny, while
they were tall and a bit overweight.
My sister and two other cousins were also there earlier.
We played card games, joked around, and talked until it got
late. Eventually, those who weren't
staying the night went home, leaving just me and my 2 bigger

(24:00):
cousins in the room. None of us were ready to sleep
yet, so we pulled out our game boys and if I remember right,
played Pokémon for a while. I think it was around 3:00 in
the morning when I finally decided it was time to sleep.
Since I was the smallest, I got stuck with the worst spot, the
middle. The beds have been pushed
together so I ended up lying right on the crack between them.
It was incredibly uncomfortable,but I was so tired that I fell

(24:22):
asleep anyway, though not without complaining first.
Halfway through the night, I woke up to the sound of my
cousin's bickering about something.
They were both standing by the balcony, looking toward the
bungalow next to ours. Still half asleep, I dragged
myself up, grabbed the edge of the bed for balance, and slowly
walked over to them. One of them mentioned seeing a
figure over at the other bungalow.
I brushed it off, thinking it was probably just someone else

(24:45):
who couldn't sleep, and looked across the street with them for
a moment before going back to bed.
Day 2. As soon as I woke up, I went
straight downstairs looking for food.
During breakfast, my mom asked if any of us had gone downstairs
in the middle of the night. I glanced at my cousins and we
all shrugged. None of us had left the room.
My mom stared at me for a moment, then quietly continued

(25:05):
eating. I spent most of the day watching
my cousin play Final Fantasy 10 in the living room until it was
time for dinner. We all gathered outside for the
barbecue, and out of nowhere, mydad started talking about
ghosts. He specifically mentioned the
Pontianic, a kind of female vampire with long nails and
sharp teeth well known in my country.
Being superstitious, He added that it was said to be most

(25:25):
active on Thursday nights, and the way to fend it off was to
point sharp objects at it, or something along those lines.
I can't quite remember all the details.
It was Thursday then, but none of us really paid much
attention. My dad asked if I'd felt or seen
anything strange during the first night.
I said no, but I vaguely remembered that every time I
went to the toilet alone, the hair on the back of my neck

(25:46):
would stand up. It always creeped me out, but I
just finished quickly and rushedback to my room.
The toilet, by the way, was right beside my room, relatively
close to the locked door. Later that night, when everyone
was already in their rooms, my phone battery was running low
and I had to go downstairs to grab my charger from the table.
As soon as I reached the ground floor, my hair stood on end and

(26:07):
a wave of fear washed over me. It was the kind of feeling you
get when you know something is about to pounce on you, but you
don't know where or when. That sense of impending danger
clung to me as I snatched the charger with sweaty palms and
bolted back up the stairs. I didn't say anything to anyone
because I didn't want to sound like a wuss.
That night, my cousins had already gone home, so I went to
sleep in my daddy's room. At some point in the night, I

(26:29):
woke up to a loud bang. My dad immediately pulled me
into a hug. That was strange.
My dad isn't the kind of person who hugs me or shows affection
like that, but I just shrugged it off and went back to sleep.
I woke up again in the middle ofthe night and for some reason
went to the toilet outside instead of using the one in my
dad's room. On the way I saw one of my aunts
and asked her what time it was. She said it was 3 and had a

(26:50):
troubled look on her face. She asked if I could hear that.
I said no, went to the toilet, and went back to sleep.
The next morning, my dad gathered everyone in the living
room and asked if any of us had seen or heard anything
unnatural. My aunt immediately said she had
heard children playing in the middle of the night, even though
the youngest child there was me and I had been a sleep.
My mom then said she had seen two figures rushing down the

(27:13):
stairs during the night. She swore they had come from the
direction of my room and moved very quickly.
One was tall and lanky, the other short and bulky.
It couldn't have been me or my cousins.
Our bodies didn't match what shedescribed.
My dad said that in the middle of the night, the bathroom door
in his room suddenly opened. He got up to close it, but it
opened again. Frustrated, he shut it once

(27:34):
more, locked it this time, and went back to bed.
Then the door knob began to shake violently and the door
slammed open again. He turned away, pulled me close,
and hugged me until we both fellasleep.
Later we discovered there was a storeroom on the ground floor
and that the room opposite mine couldn't have been another
storeroom. All the utensils and supplies
listed on the sheet by the frontdoor were accounted for in the

(27:55):
ground floor storeroom. Nothing was missing.
To this day, I still don't know what that locked room was used
for, or who or what open the bathroom door, but I am certain
that the two figures my mom saw rushing down the stairs came
from that room. Story 5.
I've posted this before, but since I took the time to write
it all out again, here it goes, part one.
I've been fascinated by ghost stories ever since I was little.

(28:17):
In fact, I learned to read from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.
From that point on, I was alwayscurious, always eager to listen
whenever someone had a ghost story to tell. 1 summer day, my
older brother came back from camp and the first thing he said
to me was, Boy, I've got a storyfor you.
When we were younger, my brothers went to a Bible camp
run by our uncle. But from what I'd heard, they
spent more time zip lining, boating and shooting targets,

(28:40):
then studying the Bible. Our side of the family had never
been particularly religious anyway.
Still, my parents had decided that at 12 years old, I was
finally old enough to attend. The shooting didn't interest me,
nor did the boat rides to the zip line where you'd fly down
into the lake at the water's edge.
What really excited me was the story my brother was about to
tell. The camp had been built in the
1980s, but the land it sat on had a history long before that.

(29:03):
Although it was meant to teach young people about the works of
God, it carried a name inspired by stranger events that no one
had yet explained. Whispering Pines.
Back in the 1940s, there was no camp, just a barren stretch of
Tennessee forest with a few farmhouses scattered about,
their lights visible only when you drew near.
The days were hot, as is normal for Tennessee, but the nights

(29:24):
were something few people understand.
These days, a Tennessee night inthe wilderness is utterly
desolate. Without the glow of city lights,
it's hard to see your own hands in front of you while the
constant chorus of insects fillsthe air.
It was on a night like this thatthe Barlow family arrived from a
northern state, traveling along a road that was really more of a
beaten down path to reach the house they had recently built.

(29:44):
They had purchased a plot of land to start a farm and raise
their family. There was Mr. Barlow, a hard
working man, and Misses Barlow. Misses Barlow had been ill for
some time and Mr. Barlow hoped that moving her to the quiet of
the Tennessee wilderness would help her away from the constant
lights and noise of the city. Misses Barlow spent her nights
on the porch, sleeping in a hospital bed they had bought at

(30:05):
a local auction. She loved that porch and
gradually grew to cherish those long, peaceful summer nights.
Along with them came their threedaughters, the twins and
Emmeline Barlow. The twins were normal children,
laughing and chasing fireflies as they explored the forest of
Whispering Pines, but Emmeline was a different story.
Emmeline had long been considered somewhat disturbed.

(30:25):
Often, Mr. Barlow would go out to the farm to find chickens
with broken legs or other injuries, or horses with bruises
or burn marks, and these incidents could almost always be
traced back to Emmeline. She had also been removed from
the small schoolhouse as she didnot get along with the other
children. She would have fits of rage and
sometimes become violent. The family always had to keep a

(30:45):
sharp eye on her. The caretaker of the property
made weekly rounds, visiting allthe home owners in the area to
check in and ensure their needs were met.
A gesture greatly appreciated byeveryone.
After all, who doesn't like to be checked on every once in a
while? The caretaker rode his horse
along the old beaten down path toward the Barlow house, cutting
through the darkness of the evening.
As he neared the property, little was visible beyond the

(31:07):
warm glow of lights shining through the windows.
But over the constant roar of insects, he could hear something
else. Something faint yet
unmistakable. Whimpering.
The low, pitiful cries of dogs pleading for help.
A shiver ran down his spine, an eerie feeling settling over him.
But as he reached the edge of the property, the whimpering
abruptly stopped, and he heard the front door of the Barlow

(31:28):
House slam shut. When he finally got close enough
to see clearly, his horse haltedand began sniffing at something
off the side of the path near the barn.
It was a dog and her four puppies, but what remained of
them was barely recognizable. Their limbs were scattered
across the ground, and the mother's throat was wounded,
still seeping blood. Mr. Barlow?
The caretaker screamed, but there was no reply.

(31:49):
Still, as a dedicated caretaker,he pressed on toward the house,
hoping he wouldn't find anythingworse than the puppies.
His heart began to race. He had long been aware of
Emmeline Barlow's reputation andcould not shake the fear of what
she might be capable of. Mr. Barlow?
He called again, his voice trembling, every inch of his
worn down heart hoping for a normal answer.
There was still no reply. He approached the house and

(32:11):
dismounted from his horse. The only sounds now were the
screeching of cicadas and the constant hum of crickets.
The lights inside the house remained on.
The caretaker cautiously moved toward the front steps.
On the porch lay the old hospital bed, the one Misses
Barlow spent nearly every summernight in.
He approached it first, praying she was resting peacefully,
unaware of the horrors of the evening.

(32:32):
Misses Barlow, I know it's late,but I was coming up and I.
His words caught in his throat. The once white sheets were
stained red. Misses Barlow lay there, gravely
injured. Her side had been badly cut, and
the side of her head bore a deepgash unlike anything the
caretaker had ever seen. The caretaker dropped his
Lantern on the porch, scatteringthe flame and plunging him into

(32:52):
complete darkness. He screamed for Mr. Barlow, but
all that answered was the relentless screeching of cicadas
and the sharp chirps of crickets.
The night seemed to close in around him.
Desperate, he began kicking at the front door, pushing with all
his strength, but something heldit firmly shut.
He slammed and pounded, screaming at the top of his
lungs. Mr. Barlow let me in.

(33:12):
Emmeline, somebody. Still no one responded.
Only the cicadas howled, the crickets chirped, and the
suffocating knight pressed in onhim.
Soon the door gave way and slammed open.
For a brief second, the caretaker caught sight of what
had been holding it shut. The bodies of the two twins lay
sprawled across the floor. Before he could call for help,
the Lantern that had hung in thekitchen window was snatched

(33:33):
away. Through the dim light, he saw
young Emmaline darting out the back door and disappear into the
dense Tennessee wilderness. Panicked, the caretaker searched
frantically for Mr. Barlow and found him collapsed on the floor
of his bedroom. It was too dark to make out the
full extent of his injuries, butthe caretaker could feel the
blood. Emmeline was never found.
The last anyone saw of her was the flicker of her Lantern

(33:56):
fading into the forest. Many believe she still roams
Whispering Pines, praying on those unfortunate enough to
cross her path. Story 6.
At some point, another group went out into the woods.
One of its members later claimedshe'd been followed home by
something. The details she gave were fuzzy,
but they were strikingly similarto what we'd heard before.
A black specter, cloaked like a shadow, circling her house

(34:18):
without ever leaving. It all ended in what she
described as a dramatic confrontation in her bedroom.
Once again, we all rallied around her.
After about two months, she seemed to have found her
answers. She and I had several long talks
about the devil, as she called it.
To my surprise, she'd never heard the story of Jared, her
group who had only been told thewoods were haunted.
So they went to check it out. They poked around for a bit, got

(34:39):
scared, and left. But one thing never changed.
Willis. He was always there.
We'd use the Ouija board often on our ghost hunts, and he
always showed up. It didn't matter who was with
us, how many people there were, or even which board we used,
Willis still appeared. His angry ranting was always the
same, along with that telltale flick of the planchette when it
landed on a letter. We'd ask a few questions, but

(35:01):
mostly he only gave threats. One particular night he
threatened to possess whoever fell asleep 1st and used their
body to harm the rest of us. We never took him seriously,
especially since Rochelle's birthday had come and gone
without any incident. Summer 2005.
As usual, summer broke the dailyroutine of our high school
lives. We still went ghost hunting, but
less frequently. It was harder to get everyone

(35:23):
together. The Wiccan craze was starting to
fade, and our numbers had dwindled to less than half.
We we jade only rarely, but Willis still appeared with his
usual tirades. We began playing airsoft in the
woods where the demons supposedly lived.
Some people outright refused to join, but the games made the
woods feel more familiar to the other kids.
Ball 2005 school resumed, bringing a resurgence of

(35:45):
activity. Our group had become known as
those kids who go ghost hunting all the time.
One night after a football game,a large group wanted to give it
a try. With Halloween approaching, the
consensus was to visit the scariest location we had
discovered in our adventures, the woods.
About 20 of us packed into cars and drove the few miles to Erics
place. While there we picked up
flashlights, some candles, and his Ouija board.

(36:07):
Almost everyone from our old philosophical club came along,
including Jared. I'll admit, I was so distracted
trying to keep everyone togetherthat I barely noticed his mood.
Another large man, David, came with us.
It was his first time exploring anything paranormal, and I think
he tagged along with Jared. We made the short hike into the
woods and settled on the banks of a small Creek at the bottom

(36:28):
of a hilly slope. Everyone was talking, sharing
stories, and joking around. Some of the newer members
expressed concerns about messingwith supernatural forces, but
overall the group was relaxed. We lit a few candles and formed
a large circle around the Ouija board.
Someone gave the usual instructions on how it worked
and questions began. Some were casual, like asking a
Magic 8 ball, Others were directed at spirits we

(36:50):
supposedly could contact. I was off to the edge of the
circle, chatting with Eric and another friend about religious
beliefs while our veteran ghost hunters help the newcomers get
involved. Discussions, dares, and hesitant
volunteers soon followed, addingto the tense excitement of the
night. Things went on as usual until
the word wuss caught my attention.
We laughed at first, apparently Willis couldn't resist showing

(37:11):
up again. But then the air shifted, the
laughter cut off mid breath, thepointer stopped moving, and a
heavy stillness fell over us like a wet blanket.
Every head turned toward the Creek.
It stood just beyond the reach of our candlelight, A humanoid
figure roughly 6 feet tall. Its eyes glowed faintly blue, an
unnatural light that had no earthly explanation.

(37:31):
Those eyes froze me where I sat.The rest of its form was just a
shadow, indistinct and shifting.But those eyes, they felt alive.
Panic ripped through the circle and everyone bolted.
Candles snuffed out somehow in the chaos.
As we scrambled, leaving the board behind, a tangle of
teenagers crashed through the woods, running from the thing I
ran to, my heart hammering, my mind spinning, but I stayed near

(37:54):
the rear of the group. Jared and David were behind me,
struggling with the terrain and their own weight, falling behind
as the rest disappeared into thedark.
I urged them on, glancing over my shoulder again and again.
There were sounds, snapping twigs, branches being shoved
aside. Something was following, and
through the blackness, those blue eyes flickered between the
trees, always there, always moving.

(38:15):
Whether it was walking or gliding, I couldn't tell.
I just knew it was coming. We hit the slope, its steep
incline turning panic into chaos.
The bigger guys couldn't climb fast enough and I was stuck at
the rear, hemmed in by fallen branches and loose debris that
clawed at my legs. Flight was no longer an option.
It was fight or freeze. And then it stopped.

(38:35):
I couldn't see where, but it wasthere, just out of reach, maybe
10 feet away. The air felt heavy, like the
woods themselves were holding their breath.
For what felt like a full minute, all I heard was my own
heartbeat and the rustle of Jared and David clawing their
way to the top. Finally, they made it out and I
followed, sidestepping up the incline so I could keep my eyes
on the dark below. My gaze darted between the

(38:56):
trees, waiting for a flicker of blue eyes, a movement, anything.
But the thing didn't show itselfat the top.
The group was a wreck. Some kids had bolted ahead to
the cars, others lingered pale and wide eyed.
It was all a disorganized mess. Jared, though.
Jared had gone eerily calm, likea switch had flipped the second
he rejoined the group. We started the walk back to the

(39:16):
cars, jumpy and silent. Every snap twig made us flinch.
The thing didn't follow, or at least that's what I told myself.
Deep down, though, I should haveknown better.
That's not how it worked. It never worked that way.
By Monday, everyone was talking about it.
The thing in the woods had become a legend overnight.
A spirit, a Wraith, a ghost, someone even floated the word
vampire. The rumors swirled like wildfire

(39:38):
and the reactions were all over the place.
Some people were fascinated, others were terrified.
A few flat out stopped speaking to us after that.
Tonight, I didn't blame them. Unlike the previous year's
hunts, I had no ready made explanation to hand out.
No, it was just the wind or someone was messing with us.
Not this time. It was those eyes.
Those freaking eyes. How did they glow like that?

(39:59):
And why had we all turned to look at the same moment?
It was like some other sense, not sight, not sound had yanked
our attention toward it. A few days later, Eric and I
went back to the woods to retrieve the Ouija board.
It was gone. In daylight, we were finally
able to examine the Creek. It was about 5 feet across
water. Flowing evenly over a smooth bed
of stones. Anyone or anything wanting to

(40:19):
cross would have had to leap it,but I didn't remember hearing a
splash or a thump or anything. Of course, maybe I just missed
it in the chaos, but those eyes.Winter 2005.
We stopped ghost hunting. For a while.
Nobody could agree on what had happened that night.
Though everyone had theories. We drifted into other
distractions. Drinking became the new weekend
ritual. Parties took over Friday nights

(40:42):
full of everything high school parties usually are.
But one night in the dead of winter, the old gang reunited.
Jared, Thomas, David, Eric, me, and a few others know Rochelle.
This time, instead of rebuildinghis lost board, Eric had just
bought one from Walmart. Eventually we sat down and gave
it a go. Everyone except David, who
leaned back against a wall content to just watch.

(41:03):
The first spirit to show up was Willis Story 7.
My brother was one of those campers.
He came home and told me this story, but he made me promise
not to tell anyone. None of the other campers could
ever know. When I asked how he had found
out about it, he said our uncle had told him, and when I asked
why this is what he explained. One night he had woken up in the
hot cabin and desperately neededto use the bathroom.

(41:26):
These cabins had no air conditioning and certainly no
indoor bathrooms, so campers usually had to go outside into
the woods. He stepped out that night and
began doing his business, makingfaces in the mud with his stream
when something caught his attention.
Off in the darkness, he saw a Lantern swaying, slowly making
its way toward the cabin. He yelled, assuming it was one

(41:46):
of the counselors on patrol. Sorry, I really had to go.
Chuckling nervously, but his chuckle faded when there was no
response. His heart raced as he bolted
back to the cabin and dove into bed.
For what felt like hours, he heard footsteps circling the
cabin. Finally summoning all his
courage, he screamed. The counselor jolted awake,
banged his head in the process, and just like that, the

(42:07):
footsteps stopped. When my brother told the
counselor the story, the man just smiled and said, probably a
raccoon. Don't let your imagination get
the best of you. The next morning, they found
footprints. Barefoot footprints pressed deep
into the mud, circling the cabinin uneven, almost deliberate
loops. The counselors pulled my older
brother aside and told him a story they swore he could not

(42:29):
repeat. They didn't want to frighten the
campers. It was the story of Emmeline
Barlow. Of course, my brother told me
anyway, and me, being the biggest ghost fanatic in the
world, wanted to know everything.
That's when he dropped the real kicker.
And apparently he whispered. The abandoned Barlow house still
exists. That was it.
I had to see it. I pestered my uncle
relentlessly, calling him and begging him to take me there the

(42:52):
following year. Every time I got the same
answer. Maybe.
Or we'll see the kind of brush off adults give when they're
hoping you'll forget. I didn't forget when the next
summer rolled around, I packed up my gear and went to camp with
one goal in mind, to finally seethe Barlow house for myself.
Again and again. I begged my uncle to Take Me Out
to the house in his truck, but all I got were vague nose and

(43:12):
will seize. Days passed.
We shotguns, we rode boats, we zip lined everything the camp
was known for, but none of it mattered.
My mind was on the House. Then one evening after dinner,
my uncle leaned in close, lowering his voice so no one
else could hear. Tonight is the night, he said.
We'll meet at 12 at the lodge. Don't tell anyone.
Being 12 meant I was no longer alittle first, second, third,

(43:35):
fourth, or even 5th grader. No, at the top of the food
chain. As one of the 6th graders, I
felt a kind of courage I'd neverhad before.
I was ready that night. My uncle, my older brother, the
other camp director and I piled into his old Ford pickup and
drove what felt like miles into the heart of the Tennessee
wilderness. We weren't on roads anymore.
These were old, beaten down paths so overgrown they barely

(43:57):
existed, and the only sound whenwe finally stopped was the
deafening roar of insects. The night was upon us now.
The Barlow House is about a mileup this road, the camp director
said, But there's too much brushto take the truck through.
We're going to have to walk it. So far, I was fine, giddy even.
This was it. I was finally going to stare a
ghost down and prove to my olderbrother and uncle the man I

(44:18):
thought I was. But as we walked closer, that
excitement started to crack. I began to wonder if Emmeline
was watching us from the trees. I thought I heard footsteps
behind us, or maybe saw the faint glow of a Lantern weaving
through the woods. My uncle chuckled and waved it
off. He slung an arm around my
shoulders, and my brother gave me a reassuring pat on the back.
Nothing to worry about, they said.

(44:39):
My courage began to return. As long as I was with my older
brother, the camp director, and my uncle, I felt untouchable.
Their calm seemed to rub off on me, and I kept walking.
That courage vanished the instant all four of us stopped
in our tracks. Ahead, echoing through the
trees, came the faint whimperingof puppies.
The sound bounced off the forestin strange, hollow ways, like it

(45:00):
was coming from everywhere at once.
I could sense the shift in the men around me, the same unease I
felt tightening their shoulders and slowing their steps, and
that only magnified my own fear.I whispered that I didn't want
to go any farther, that I wantedto go back, but they were
determined to see what it was. In all their years of coming
here, nothing had ever happened.Their curiosity made tears roll

(45:21):
down my cheeks. I was terrified.
I didn't care about proving I was a man anymore.
I just wanted to be home, in my bed, safe under the covers.
Still, we marched on. As we neared the house, a
Lantern flickered shakily in thekitchen window.
The camp director turned to us. You boys stay back, he said.
We're going to check it out. My brother and I were frozen,
both of us trembling. He didn't even tease me for

(45:42):
crying, something he would have done in a heartbeat under normal
circumstances. Instead, he stood right beside
me, just as paralyzed as I was. As my uncle and the director
moved farther away toward the house, our fear spiked.
Despite their orders, we ran to catch up, insisting we weren't
staying behind no matter what. When we reached the porch, I saw
the hospital bed still there, empty and rusted.

(46:03):
The door to the house stood justto the left, and my uncle moved
toward it. I'm not going in, I whispered.
I begged him not to open it, buthe stepped forward anyway.
With a kick, he swung the door open, and the Lantern light
vanished. Out of the corner of my eye, I
saw something move along the back of the house toward the
rear door. Then the back door slammed open
and shut with a deafening bang, and for a moment the chorus of

(46:25):
Tennessee cicadas and crickets fell completely silent.
My uncle scooped me up and we ran the entire mile back to the
truck. That night, none of us got much
sleep, and even now I still havenightmares about Emmeline Barlow
and the Whispering Pines. Thank you for watching.
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