#ghosts

Wipe your feet when you come inside. Cliché. Old school. Who does that anyways? Well, the shit your grandmother tells you isn’t always bad advice. Quite the contrary really. I’m about to tell you a story you won’t believe. A story that will never leave me. A story about what exactly happens when you don’t WIPE. YOUR. FEET. And please, whoever finds this, heed my advice. Read the story. It’s too late for me…

Max Theodore pushed past the boisterous throng of laughing kids and settled down at his usual table. Max’s best friend, Isabella, bounded over to him with her typical energy. “Max!” she greeted, hugging him as if she hadn’t seen him in days. “You won’t believe what I was able to find last night!” Max grinned and shook his head. Isabella had a reputation as a paranormal fanatic. On Saturday night she could be found in her home watching black and white horror films while eating buttered popcorn.…

Eva rummaged through her messenger bag frantically. Once again her notebook had disappeared into thin air. Cursing the missing piece of educational materials she opened a fresh one and began taking Russian notes on page one. Lucky for having scanned the pages into her desktop. Moving her long dark hair behind her ear she obediently repeated as she was asked to. And as the bell rang she moved to her next class. College was no different from High school, she was fortunate to have graduated in…

My freshman year of high school was what had to be the worst year of my life. I used to keep this story to myself- I never told anyone, never wrote it down. I just never saw a point. It’s hardly even possible that anyone would ever believe me. They’d think I was crazy. Which wouldn’t be fair with how much I’ve gone through. But now, I’m dying and my story must be told. I have to warn others not to play the game.

Danny was a necrophiliac, that was no secret to him.

August 13th, 1921 Prof. Herbert Clayton Children's Ward St. Mary's Childrens Hospital Fife, Scotland Dear Professor, My trusted friend and mentor, I write to you in the hope that you may advise me on a matter of urgency concerning a patient of mine. Edward is a boy of just nine years who arrived with his mother six days ago with a disposition so positive that we did not at first admit him. This did not last long.

“Wake … up … you must … wa-“. That’s when it stopped. Those were the last words the tall, dark figure spoke to me when a white curtain fell over all that I saw, covering the previous scenery with an endless sea of snow.

Of course everyone claiming residence in Arthur’s Wake knows tales associated with the Wicker House. It seems that every small province plays host to some structure of ill repute which, as if by supernatural magnetism, draws rumor of ghosts and bogies, wrapping the timber and stone of its foundation in a shroud of darkness and horror. In Arthur’s Wake, the Wicker House fills this odious task.

The dust was whirling behind their car as they sped down the gravel road. Dust and dirt swirled behind them like a dark cloud gaining on the small car. David glanced at the dash board to see how fast he was driving and it showed sixty-eight. He wasn’t sure why he was driving so fast; they weren’t exactly in a hurry. He and his friend, Ryan, were heading across the state after fall break to their school. They were both freshmen at Crestwood University.

Very seldom does it happen that a young person enters a nursing home. Mostly we assume that nursing homes are for the elderly. Those who are too fragile or infirm to be without twenty-four hour care, those with a broken hip that won’t heal or with too many illnesses to count. A few who will recover and the rest left here as a last resort. But occasionally a child inhabits a room at a nursing home. Here is the tale of one such child, and the impression she left behind.

The old storage sheds along the tracks were abandoned shortly after the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad was built, and it wasn't long before the poor folk of the area moved in. The sheds provided shelter - of a sort - although the winter wind still pierced through every crevice, and the small fireplaces that the poor constructed did little to keep the cold at bay.

“Welcome to Riverwood.” The administrator exclaimed, shaking the hand of the new night nurse. Riverwood was the town’s only nursing home. It had been built as a hospital back in the early days of Millville. It was a grand three story building, built in an “L” shape. At the far west end of the building was a bell tower. It no longer sounded, the bell having been removed several years ago. It was on a slight hill overlooking the north end of town and was surrounded by trees so thick that it was…

In Minneapolis Minnesota a long abandoned hospital was under reconstruction. The hospital, St Anne's Mercy, was original founded in 1802. The hospital housed the quarantined patients suffering from illnesses such Yellow Fever, smallpox and leprosy. It also housed the mentally ill and abandoned of all ages for many years.

Of places that you would think to be haunted and creepy, hospitals and nursing homes, at about one a.m., are the worst. Death and illness run the halls of these institutions on a daily basis. The walls become infected with it. The floors and fixtures are run down by it. Each room becomes a cell of this thing and at times, makes it appear living. Let me tell you a story about a particular room, one that has become known as the death room. That room is 210.

Mr. Woo was standing against the railing at the top of the stairs. He’s been standing there for the last three nights, when I get home from work. I live in one of those five stories, downtown apartment buildings that are always filled with a variety of characters. The woman with the million cats, who’s always wearing a worn-out robe, the man and woman who are constantly fighting and then making-up, loudly. The mother with the screaming children. The neighbors that you never see, but can hear…

My life has been average at most. I lived in a family of two girls and one boy. There was my older sister, Jenny, me, and my younger brother, Alex. We had a typical childhood, I guess. Jenny was popular, with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and skinny frame. Alex, early on, showed a penchant for sports and became the star athlete of the family. But myself, just like the rest of my life, was very… average.

I’m sure that all of you on /r/nosleep are used to the cry for help type stories by now. Help me, help me, blah-blah-blah. I won’t bore you with another. Even if I wanted your help, you couldn’t give it to me, because your help is useless. Why? Because you’re not a member. I just wish that I wasn’t either. It all started innocently enough. With a phone call. I’d been up for a few hours, unpacking and cleaning, waiting for the plumber to call. I just moved into a cabin and the contractors fucked…

The complication that is involved regarding why I am where I am is far too great for me to try and explain but, to simplify things, it’s important to know that I am ‘stuck’. I use the term ‘stuck’ lightly as I am able to stretch my arms outside the barrier I’m held in. Unfortunately, in order for me to be fully free from this blank prison I’d have to grab hold of some sort of anchor point residing in the outside world. When I grab hold of it I’d have drag myself out, so the anchor point would…

My name was Private Charles Lee Locod, I enlisted back in ’67 for the U.S. Army. I traded my fiancée for a rifle, my home for a tent, and three years of my life for someone else. Some men kill to live; I was one of those men. Though I don’t think I ever actually killed anyone, at least I did my best not to. Then there are men who live to kill, men like Sergeant Stevens. He was a back woods Carolina man who took pleasure in each gruesome act. The last I saw him was a few days ago when he waved…

Back in the woods, in a little ol’ town. There sits a grave on unholy ground. It’s covered in leaves and things that crawl. Buried in weeds and the vines that sprawl. The light is dim and the wind grows cold. Her name was Nellie, she was ten years old. She killed her family and fed on their fat. She killed their dog to feed her cat. She haunted the neighbors with her spells and her tricks. She stabbed at their ankles with nails and sharp sticks.