Best rated stories

Back in the 1980’s there was a phone prank that my sisters and I used to do when we were kids. It was known around the neighborhood that if you were to dial your own phone number, replace the first three digits with “555”, and then press the receiver down 3 times, the phone would ring back on its own. It had to be on a touch tone which were common back then.

My father recently passed away and left me his house in his will. His house was some sort of lakefront property out in the middle of nowhere in Wisconsin. My father bought it and moved up there after my mother passed away from cancer when I was around 20 years old. I’m 30 now and I haven’t really seen or heard from him since. The news of his passing didn’t really bother me too much because even before my mother died, he was never around. He was a cop in a small town in Texas near the New Mexico…

It was just like any other day when I received the call. I had been sketching the horizon for the past hour when my phone began ringing with with an unfamiliar number. I would have ignored it if the call hadn't been from my home town. Fast forward 24 hours later, and I'm sitting in a stark conference room and waiting for a team of doctors to arrive. I would have never imagined myself in this position. Who could? My mind was racing, and I wished that the doctor had given me a clearer explanation…

It was a chilly October night, the kind where the wind howled through the trees and the moon cast an eerie glow on everything it touched. I had just moved to Willow Creek, a small town known for its quaint charm and haunted history. Halloween was approaching, and with it came stories of the old Wright house, an abandoned mansion on the outskirts that everyone whispered about.

Of the early days of the world, after our ancestors crossed the Bering Straight and millennia before any of the tribes we know of today existed, very little is actually remembered. Sure, there are tales of the beginning of Man, and of the Earth, but those are only fables… legends told to explain what was then unexplainable. This, however, is not a fable, but a story. A story probably distorted by time, but at its core true, nonetheless.

Bordering my property line, a manufactured home is left to be devoured by mother nature, abandoned. I have owned my property for multiple years, and, throughout that time, an owner has never been present, nor had I seen anything suspicious — until recently.

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.

Mike yawned. He wasn't use to the late nights yet. It was only his second night shift, as far as I'm aware, and by the time he had crossed the room to grab his sixth or seventh drink of coffee from the machine just outside the office door, I was started to get irritated by him. He was a lot younger than me, about 20 years old, and the age gap annoyed me since he acted like a child most of the time. My usual co-worker for the night shift was on a vacation with our boss, since the two knew each…

I like to drive past spooky places.

‘Tom went mad,’ Gilbert said. ‘Schizophrenia or something, I think. He stopped leaving the place completely. After a month of being pent up inside he died of starvation.’ ‘He was a hoarder. A serious one. It took weeks to get the home cleaned up, and even then there’s still some junk in the basement the cleaners left there. I’d be curious to have a look and see if there’s anything valuable.’ He snorted. ‘I doubt it though.’

The first time I visited the Otherworld was when I was eleven. One moment I’d been having some peaceful dream I hardly remember, and the next, I was shooting up in bed with a gasp. I pulled my blanket tighter around myself as I looked around uneasily.

Good day. My name is not important. What matters is what I found… and what I was never supposed to find. This document comes from archived police records dated back to the late 1980s. I discovered it by accident while going through old, partially damaged files. At first, I thought it was just another closed case, something routine, something forgotten for a reason.

I know I have started the previous post like this, but I like to keep reminding people that it’s me writing this; the name’s Jay. The same boy who escaped the Junior Playtesting Program. I know I am breaking my promise to stay away from all Nintendo-related properties, but I want to put this to rest, and that’s seeing what they’re hiding in Super Nintendo World.

Audio Transcript: Date: March 15, 2018 Time: 4:07 PM Location: NYPD interview room -- Officer Decha Noi: Before we begin our chat, would you mind stating your name? Nicholas Myers: Umm, yeah, sure. I'm Nicholas Myers, I'm turning 32 years old on December 8th, I live on 89 Elizabeth Street and... uh, is that enough?

A few years ago, a random virus that appeared overnight wiped out 3/4th of the population. The world went into ruin for a bit, until society came together after dying down to about 3 million people. They then made so many things that they could only dream of making when the population was at its max. Soon, most of society moved to a high tech city so originally named “The Big City”, It reminded people a lot of a Cyberpunk society. People did still live outside of The Big City, doing important…

“Well girls, which car should we take on our little road trip? Dad’s Chevy Nomad would be practical, but the Chevy Nova’s got a bit more flair to her. Of course, if it’s flair we’re going for, I don’t think anything we have can compete with a classic Cadillac,” James Darling said as he surveyed his automotive fleet with a sense of satisfied pride.

It was three years ago. I was 20 and couldn’t keep a job. I was just too lazy, I guess. I finally got one, though. It was at the Hubert Amusement Park, I was Hubert. Being the park's mascot wasn’t a high-paying job, but at least I could live dressing up as a clown. Every day, I would dress up as Hubert and go to the park. Like any clown, Hubert had pure white skin with red markings on his face, frizzy blue hair, a squishy red nose, and baggy rainbow overalls.

Dear Diary, I do not know how long it has been since I've experienced my last surge of brilliance. You see, I'm an established author. Albeit a published one - renowned to most for my fictional writings in dystopian novels.

So ur wid yo honi and ur makin out wen the phone ringz. U ansr it n da voice sayz "wut r u doin wit ma daughter?" u tel ur girl n she say "ma dad is ded." THEN WHO WAS PHONE?

It rained over the Rosenberg estate. A day's worth of packing luggage into the truck and, soon after it left, the clouds arrived. Inside of the several story house, little life was expressed as it once had. The antique clock ticked away, being the only thing making sound for the last three hours. Günther poured himself another shot of brandy, already finished with the bottle set at the mini bar. There was plenty more where it came from and he intended on finishing every last drop.